


Tease

by cornikinks



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Aged-Up Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Art Student Killua Zoldyck, Bi-Curiosity, Body Worship, Bottom Killua Zoldyck, Butt Plugs, Camboy Gon, Cock Rings, Cock Worship, Crying Killua Zoldyck, Embarrassed Killua Zoldyck, Embarrassment, Famous Gon Freecs, First Time Blow Jobs, First Time Bottoming, Fluff and Humor, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Fuckbuddies, Gay Killua Zoldyck, Handcuffs, Humor, Internet Famous, Jealous Gon Freecs, M/M, Making Out, Marijuana, Minor Kurapika x Chrollo, Minor KuroKura, Minor Retz/Gon Freecs, Model Retz, Neck Kissing, New York City, Nude Model Retz, Nude Modeling, POV Killua Zoldyck, Porn Star Gon Freecs, Porn Star Hisoka, Porn Star Retz, Porn Watching, Porn With Plot, Protective Gon Freecs, Rough Kissing, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Humor, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Smoking, Top Gon Freecs, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, University, Wet Dream, bisexual awakening, camboy au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2020-08-10 05:49:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 132,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20130361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cornikinks/pseuds/cornikinks
Summary: No fucking way, Killua thought.There’s no way Gon’s is a porn star.He clicked onto the account’s profile page. There, in perfect clarity, was a picture of Gon Freecss’ face.





	1. Well Off? Not So Much

Smoke curled from his lips. It spilled, milky white and heavy in the air, and sank in his lungs like the warm, heavy blanket he craved. He sighed into it, enveloping the chatter in his brain in a thick fog. His anxieties dissipated. Now… he could think.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” he said, eyes trailing up to the ceiling. He dipped back into the couch he had picked up from the side of the road several months prior to the current shit show that became of his life. “I don’t get paid for another week and rent’s due in three days. I can’t ask for another extended grace period.”

“How much are you light on?”

He rubbed a hand through his thick black hair, coughing a little. “Like, two hundred,” he said. “My next check’s… fuck, I can’t math. Kurapika, help.”

Beside him, the couch shifted. Kurapika leant over his knees and reached for another hit. When he spoke next, it was through the fog. “You said you average around three hundred per check? I keep telling you to get a better paying job or ask for a raise.”

“I _can’t_,” he insisted, devastated. He didn’t want to put his boss through that—what if business wasn’t as good as he thought it was? What if his boss was one excuse away from firing him?

“Then I don’t know what to tell you, Gon. Get another job?”

“That won’t pay for my next rent.”

“Do something quick then. Like… I could hook you up?”

Gon sighed. He really _didn’t_ want to tread into _that_ category. He was already treading that line, and he couldn’t ask more from Kurapika without feeling guilty about it. One day, he’d pay the guy back. “No, I couldn’t ask that of you.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Yeah, well, it is to me,” Gon said. He sat up a bit straighter and flopped his hands on his lap. “I can’t keep living like this!”

“Like what,” he said, head tipped back against the cushions. His blonde braid was pulling apart at the seams. 

“From paycheck to paycheck! I want a cushion. And I’d blame it on my mathematical _stupidity_, but I don’t think that’s it anymore,” he said. He was, quite literally, taking a _home economics_ course to correct his issues with paying rent. No matter how he budgeted it, his rent was always short and his food cupboard scarce.

Kurapika had a few bright ideas—if by bright, he meant _blindingly idiotic_. He chuckled a little at the thought, eyes back on Gon’s pouting profile. Gon, who couldn’t, not for the life of him, fathom the reasons why everyone in his classes wanted to bone him—guys and girls included. He was a sweetheart, sure, but that was just the cherry on top of an already perfect sundae. Kurapika couldn’t blame them one bit. The guy was fit as all Hell, had hair suitable for any magazine cover, and a light, open face that _screamed,_ “Talk to me! I’ll make your day 100% better!”

So yeah, Kurapika had a few _bright ideas_.

“Dude, just become a porn star,” Kurapika said.

Gon’s eyes snapped to his in an instant. “A _what?_”

“You know. Make money from _getting off_, or whatever,” Kurapika said with a little wiggle of his shoulders. He turned his cheeky grin up to the ceiling. He blamed the idea on the high, but he’d be lying if he hadn’t thought about it before. Gon had the body build of a porn star, but what was underneath that waistband was _beyond_ Kurapika’s current knowledge of his best friend. 

“You can… make money off of it? Just like that?” Gon whispered.

“Well, it isn’t _just_ like that,” Kurapika said. He settled in for a _real_ talking-to, and in a matter of hours, Gon had his game plan for living a comfortable life in a shitty apartment that really wasn’t worth any of their time.

Gon needed to _expand_ his initial audience from nothing, which meant he needed a presence on every social media available to him for this sort of business. He’d need to start an online brand—he’d need a name, photos to establish his presence—since it was more difficult, than anything, to start wholly from scratch. To top it off, Kurapika built out a game plan that required another hit to clear the dignity from their brains.

“So what you’re gonna have to do _to make the dough_ is 1) make a sacrifice to the devil and hope to go viral and then 2) sell your hair online.”

Gon put a hand to his man bun. It wasn’t particularly attached to it, but haircuts were expensive and he didn’t trust himself or Kurapika with a pair of scissors. But at this point, it was such a prominent part of his daily routine that he couldn’t imagine parting with it. 

“Why my hair?” he asked, worried.

“Because people _buy hair_. Unless you want to sell pictures of your _feet_,” he said. Gon shuddered. For one, hair was evidence. What if someone used it to plant his DNA at a crime scene? But feet… His toes looked ugly enough as it was from running. He was already self-conscious about his nonexistent pinkie toenail.

“No one would want a picture of my feet. Trust me,” Gon said, shaking his head. So it was decided: He’d sell his hair.

Gon expected it to take a lot more _gusto_ for him to even _strip_ in front of a camera, but before he could even get there, anxiety was already on his heels, climbing up, and gripping him by the throat that very next day when he and Kurapika picked up the camera equipment from a neighbor in their complex. Gon scratched awkwardly at his slicked back bun as Kurapika thanked the guy like they weren’t about to put porn on his SD card. 

When the door was closed, Gon said, “You won’t tell anyone, right?”

“My lips are _sealed_,” Kurapika promised. 

He helped Gon set up the camera. Seeing it—propped up on a box in his window sill—facing the bed had Gon’s insides spinning. They spun and spun and left him woozy in the head from the flask of courage Kurapika gave him. He was only twenty and therefore unable to provide such spirits for himself. If he did, it’d be yet another dangerous temptation. Dangerous obsession. He had an addictive personality as it was, and that buzzing sensation in his gut told him the spinning was _good_. 

Kurapika was leant against Gon’s desk, crouched down, and tapping away on his computer. They had made his creator profile on a live-streaming service called HUNter the previous day. Gon busied himself in his closet, sifting through his shirts until Kurapika stomped in to assess the situation for himself.

He plucked out shirt after shirt before settling on Gon’s old lettermen jacket. It was black with gold sleeves and riddled with medallions and patches from his prime. Now, he was twenty, broke, and desperate after effectively shitting on his scholarship with one too many concussions.

Kurapika thrust it out to Gon and said, “Take off your shirt and unbutton your jeans. Just this.”

“Really?” Gon said, skeptical. He looked down at his plain green t-shirt and jeans and, after sharing another look with Kurapika, got to work. He shucked off his t-shirt and unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. Kurapika tugged on the flap, to see what boxers he was wearing—plain black with a white waistband. 

“Good,” Kurapika said. “We’re gonna monetize the fact that this is your first go of it. Play the innocent card. Like you don’t know what you’re doing, but in a cute way.”

“I don’t know how to do that,” Gon said, pouting.

Kurapika snapped his fingers. “See? That’s it—right there. You’ll do great. Just start with a few minutes of chatter, talk about your day and—oh, _don’t_ talk about how desperate you are for cash. That’s a turn off.”

“Oh, okay,” Gon said, a finger to his lips. He pouted, frowned, and scowled at Kurapika when he realized that the guy was slowly backing towards the door. “You’re staying, aren’t you?”

“Hell no,” Kurapika said. “You’re gonna jerk off, aren’t you?”

Gon went bright red, wearing nothing but his undone jeans and a letterman jacket. “I-I don’t know! Can’t you, like, coach me?”

Kurapika put his arms out and said, “Do I _look_ like I wanna watch you cum?”

“D-Don’t say that! This is different! This is purely for the benefit of moral support,” Gon insisted, gesturing to the desk chair. “You can, like… I dunno, manage the chat or something!”

Kurapika scowled at Gon, looked at the liquor supply on the counter, and gave in. He went for the vodka and took it with him to the desk. Halfway there, he paused, turned, and pointed a finger at Gon. “Just this one time, and then if you make it big, you better pay the fuck up, bub.”

Gon brightened. He clapped his hands and bounced, saying, “Yes! Okay, deal!”

And, so, thus was how Gon’s career began. It started with a perfectly art directed selfie (natural lighting and _everything_) and a link to the stream on every one of his profiles marked by his brand new username: Freakss. Meanwhile, Kurapika was signed into all of Gon’s accounts on his own phone, and as the camera started rolling, he was spamming peoples’ accounts with likes and follows just to get his face out there.

Gon frowned at Kurapika and said, “Don’t make it seem like I’m a sex bot or anything.”

“Honey, you already are,” Kurapika said as he tapped a finger on the screen with a flourish.

Something popped on screen, off to the side of the dark interface of the HUNter site. Both Gon and Kurapika stilled, and the instant they looked closer, it was followed up by another ping. Kurapika twisted around to look at Gon, who scooted to the edge of his bed and said, “What’re they saying?”

Kurapika squinted at the screen and said, “They say—” only to hesitate when more messages came in—three of them, exactly. “Oh, turn the mic up. Hang on.” 

Kurapika switched screens and fiddled with the streaming program for a moment. Gon sat on the edge of the bed, clutching at the sheets to keep from vibrating with excitement. When Kurapika switched back, he read out a few of the messages, the first one being: “_Get closer to the camera! I wanna see your face ;)_”. 

Gon hopped off of the bed and walked over. He beamed at Kurapika, who rolled his eyes and took a long swig of vodka before saying, “Do the frat boy, checking-yourself-out-in-the-mirror pose.”

Gon did just that. He passed one hand over his hair, angling his head to the side, eyes lidded. He turned his chin up and, with his other hand, ran his fingers past the side of his head. He smiled crookedly, and could see himself on the stream—the loose lettermen jacket and all. 

_I look good_, he thought, running his hands over the zippered hem. He pulled the ends back, hands on his hips, and rose an eyebrow at Kurapika.

Kurapika was staring at him, a flush spread across his cheeks and ears. 

Gon smirked. “Is that a sunburn or are you just happy to see me?” he said. 

“Y-You’re ridiculous! I don’t know why I’m friends with you,” Kurapika blurted out, turning back to the screen. 

An audible ping chimed. Gon startled at the sound and said, “What was that?”

“Someone—Someone donated five hundred—”

“_Dollars?!_” Gon screamed. That was his entire rent! He might as well turn off the camera now and—

“_No_, you idiot! HUNter has their own coin system. Five hundred gems is the equivalent of, like, five bucks,” Kurapika explained, and started typing away in the chat box as Gon sat back on the edge of the bed with a furrowed brow, a hand clasped to his chin. 

Five dollars wasn’t enough, but he couldn’t be glum about it! That was his first tip, dammit! When he made his HUNter creator account, that was what the payment information was for. According to the _terms and conditions_, he’d be paid within two to three business days—just in the nick of time… if five dollars could cover the rest of his rent, that is.

Thus was how the stream commenced. It began with a little question and answer—it _was_ his first stream, after all, and while the viewers weren’t necessarily there to learn about Freakss The Person, Gon needed to _warm up_. They’d get there—eventually—and _knowing_ what was just around the corner had Gon jittery in his seat. 

The stream had twenty-some viewers when it started to get rowdy. For the third time, Kurapika said, “They want you to take off your pants.”

“Maybe,” Gon teased with a half-hearted shrug. He grinned at the camera and said, “For twenty bucks.”

_Now he’s getting the hang of this_, Kurapika thought, fingers to his lips. He looked away from the video footage when another ping chimed. 

“A promise is a promise,” Kurapika said, turning around in his seat. Gon stilled on the bed, eyes wide. “Off with the pants, bucko.”

“Geez, really?” Gon said with a huff. 

Just as he stood up to pull his jeans down—_not_ his underwear, he wasn’t _that_ easy—something happened. Something… _bizarre_.

The chat had been a steady, periodic stream until that moment. A message here, a message there. Now, the conversation was flooded. Gon pointed to the screen, hurrying over, and Kurapika quickly twisted around to stare in shock at the notification that popped into the banner below the video footage. 

“Someone’s hosting your stream on their account,” Kurapika said.

“Who?” Gon said, eyes wide. He could see himself in the video footage—off to the side, close to the lens, his collarbone the closest thing in focus. 

Kurapika brought up the account in a different tab. Some guy with the username… _Penniwise_. He pointed to the follower count and looked back at Gon, saying, “Dude, you gotta thank him for hosting your stream.”

“How?” Gon said as Kurapika went back to the chat. 

They tracked down the guy’s messages among the storm current ensuing on Gon’s stream. Gon leaned back into view of the camera again. The response to Gon’s question came through soon after—“_You could start by taking off those clothes _ 😘 _”. _

Since that was already the plan, Gon shed the letterman down to his elbows and stepped out of his jeans. He kicked them aside. The chat was a complete blur. The viewer count was nearing the two hundreds. It felt like every last viewer was trying to talk over one another, and it made Gon’s head dizzy with excitement. 

“Dude, are you already hard?” Kurapika laughed, a hand over his mouth.

Gon looked down at is waist. “Yeah, I guess I am,” he said.

“Jesus Christ—I’m leaving,” he said, standing.

“Aw, come on! I need the moral support,” Gon insisted, gesturing to himself. “First time and all that.”

Kurapika jabbed a thumb in the direction of the chat as he took another sip of vodka and said, “Your moral support’s right there, bud. Tell me how it goes later.”

Gon couldn’t exactly chase after Kurapika without abandoning the stream. He stood there, eyes wide and lost for a moment before he moved to the camera, shifted it, and went to sit at the desk where he could see the chat. Quietly, to himself, he muttered in a sing-song voice, “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing…”

His comment was followed up with by Penniwise writing, “_I’ll tell you what to do _ 😉 ”. 

The guy was HUNter _famous_—it couldn’t hurt to learn from a seasoned streamer. Gon shifted uncomfortably in his seat, unable to sit still without shaking with energy. He licked his lips and grinned up at the camera as he said, “Yeah, okay. I’ll take you up on that offer, _Penniwise_.”

* * *

When Killua Zoldyck met Gon Freecss, he never knew Gon by his now-nonexistent bun. He never knew Gon from his shitty apartment. He never knew Gon before he owned a motorcycle. _Yeah, a fucking motorcycle_. The Gon Freecss Killua knew was preppy, generous, and ridiculous. He was all levels of ridiculous that Killua could get behind. 

When Killua met Gon, it was just after memorial day on the first day of junior year. It was rainy, and Killua was positively drenched from being an absolute idiot and not bringing an umbrella. The guy had jogged up to him despite Killua looking like a serial killer in his baggie black sweatshirt, the hood soaked and pulled over his head. His eyes were bloodshot and hollowed out from lack of sleep when the rain stopped trickling over his head and instead pattered against the canvas of a wide, multicolored umbrella. 

The guy leant over into Killua’s field of view and said, “Hey—looked like you could use some coverage.”

Killua stared for a moment and wondered if life was actually happening right now. Maybe he really _did_ miss his alarm clock and this was all just some overly realistic dream. Except, it wasn’t realistic, because hot guys just _didn’t do that to him_. 

“Uh, thanks…” he started.

The guy put a hand out. “Gon.”

Killua shook his hand despite every square inch of his hand being sopping wet. “Killua.”

Gon smiled wide then—so wide that Killua felt he was looking into the eyes of the young and (debatably) more attractive version of Heath Ledger. He had smile lines that didn’t and wouldn’t quit, and Killua thought he might die if he stood there any longer. 

Gon inclined his head, just a touch, and said, “Well, Killua, mind if I walk you to your next class? I’m heading in this direction anyway.”

Killua couldn’t very well say no, not when his idiotic heart wanted him to strangle the guy for being so illegally gorgeous. Instead of saying something normal, like, “_Sure_,” or, “_Okay_,” he said instead, “Why, so you can stalk me later?”

_Jesus fucking Christ_. He wanted to shoot something. 

Thankfully, though, the guy _laughed_, like Killua had just said the funniest fucking thing on the planet. “I would, but alas, I’m straight as a ruler.”

“Like, a tape measurer?”

“I was thinking more of a yardstick.”

“You mean rollup measuring tape.”

“No, I’m pretty sure I mean yardstick.”

“I think what you meant to say was ‘tape measurer’.”

“You know what,” Gon said, a hand on his hip and still leaning all up in Killua’s personal space bubble underneath that umbrella, “let’s just agree to disagree.”

Killua rolled his eyes away and followed after the guy. Gon kept the umbrella between them as the rain poured down and drowned out whatever words came out of their mouths. Killua couldn’t hear the guy above the constant drum of water on the canvas overhead, so they took to racing across concrete and puddles in the direction of Killua’s lecture hall. He pointed to it, and off they went.

They crossed the street, leaping over the river against the curb, and underneath the building overhang. Killua slowed, panting, and looked back to find Gon closing his umbrella and shaking it out, splattering the thin strip of dry concrete with water. 

“Well, this is me,” Killua said, like they were on the front porch of Killua’s family’s estate and Gon was his date for the night, dropping him off at the door like the gentlemen he was.

“Coincidentally, same here,” Gon said as he folded the umbrella up and reached for the door. He held it for Killua and gestured inside. “After you.”

“No way, you go first. Chivalry is dead, haven’t you heard?” Killua said.

“Not in my book. Come on,” he said, and gestured again, like he was herding a difficult pup.

Killua wasn’t chivalrous and, therefore, wasn’t one to be put on a leash. He tugged. “I’ll go first when I’m dead.”

Gon stared at him. “Jesus, that’s morbid. I hope you don’t die first.”

“What, so you don’t grow old and die lonely?” he teased, hands on his hips. 

The guy had the nerve to roll his eyes. “I don’t know about you, but I am _not_ living past the age of forty. Not with how I’ve been living.”

“And how’s that?”

“Smoking too much, for one,” he laughed. 

_Damn, this guy keeps it real_, Killua thought. “Guess it depends on what you’re smoking.”

“Either way my lungs are fucked. What about you?”

“If weed doesn’t catch up to me, anxiety will.” He did smoke, on occasion, during the previous year. He didn’t start until late freshmen year and kept up the habit through sophomore year. His grades somehow improved, but he imagined it was coincidental and not at all a fact of marijuana consumption.

Gon laughed with those cheeky smile lines bracketing that perfect goddamn smile. He put a fist out and Killua bumped it with his own. “Sweet. We should hang some time.”

Truth be told, Killua _really_ didn’t expect his first friend of junior year to be made via a discussion on smoking, but there they were. And he certainly hadn’t expected to sit alongside Gon in the same lecture hall, either. They weren’t exactly in the same majors—Gon for business management and Killua for fine arts—and to top it off, the they were of two entirely different social species. Killua: the reclusive art student, and Gon: the buff, extroverted gym jock. Killua didn’t mind one bit.

The first time they hung out outside of class, though, was soon after the first day of classes: that following weekend. Killua wasn’t even startled by the speed of their friendship. It was full throttle, but natural. They bantered all through class (much to the annoyance of their classmates) and made it their life’s mission to watch as many movies and shows together as possible. Their to-be-watched lists were so similar it made Killua’s head spin.

So when Gon came buzzing at Killua’s apartment complex door, it felt somehow _normal_. As if inviting over the single hottest guy on campus was the natural next step to becoming friends with him. For brief interludes scattered amongst the day, Killua would pause and reconsider just how bizarre it was that Gon even took an interest in him. Killua, the weird albino kid from the art department with too much paint on his hands. Killua, the guy who couldn’t keep his mouth shut no matter how much he tried. 

He felt weird enough about having a one-on-one movie session with the guy, so when he opened the door and found that they weren’t alone, he was relieved. 

“Hey! I brought a friend,” Gon said, gesturing to some blonde-haired hooligan next to him. The guy had the hair of the gods—braided back and styled _perfectly_. All he was missing was an olive leaf branch and a toga. 

“‘Sup,” the guy said. He reached a hand out, which Killua took, breathless. _Were all of Gon’s friends attractive?_ he wondered. “Kurapika.”

“Killua,” he said. 

Little did he know, Gon’s particular friend was, in fact, their supplier for the evening. And, as it turned out, he was also Gon’s closest companion. 

“He’s jerked off in front of me before,” Kurapika said, pointing to Gon.

“Have not!” Gon cried, exasperated. 

“Wow,” Killua said.

Gon slapped Kurapika in the arm and said, “You’ll make him uncomfortable. Why did I bring you again?”

“Because you love me,” Kurapika said with a cheeky grin. 

Killua laughed before popping a chip in his mouth. He gestured vaguely to Kurapika and told Gon, “I like this guy. Where did you find him?”

“At an off brand Goodwill, probably,” Kurapika said. 

“In the back of a Popeye’s parking lot,” Gon said, completely deadpanned. Killua slapped his hands to to his lap and laughed so hard he thought he might burst a lung. He fell back onto his mattress, a hand to his chest, and let a little sliver of his soul ascend out of existence. 

Killua’s studio apartment was plain all except for luxury television his brother passed onto him along with his older gaming consoles. They used one such console to pull up the movie of the night, and the next thing Killua knew, he was full on staring at Gon, who sat on the floor off to the side, slightly in front of Killua, looking entirely too invested in the movie to notice. Killua ran his fingers over his lips and tried, once again, to focus on the screen, but nothing was more entertaining than watching Gon’s expression shift between scenes—confused, frustrated, laughing, _happy_. Fuck, if seeing Gon happy made Killua _this_ blissed out, he wouldn’t need weed in his life. 

Kurapika passed the glass pipe to Killua, who took a hit mostly out of habit than by anything else. He pulled his eyes away from Gon then and decided that he was right. He _was_ grateful Gon brought Kurapika because if it were up to Killua, he’d be jumping Gon within the first five minutes of the movie. The guy was a _looker_, okay? He couldn’t deny how his hormones flew out of whack at the very thought of him.

His eyes then traveled sluggishly over to Kurapika, who was leant far back on Killua’s bed, his back propped up by a pillow against the wall. Kurapika crossed his arms and when Killua met his eyes, the guy had the audacity to smirk like he knew _exactly_ what Killua was thinking. Honestly, he probably did. When Killua was _this_ relaxed, he was an open book. An open, _open_, horny book. Wide open. All of Killua’s pages were to the wind.

Kurapika blew smoke between his teeth like some cartoon bull seething in a gladiator pit. Killua found it amusing. “So… what’re you majoring in, then?” Kurapika asked, tipping his head to the side. 

“Art, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“Does anyone _really_ major in art?” Killua said, rolling his eyes to the side. He coughed at the smell in the air as he passed the pipe to Gon, who reached back, eyes glued to the screen. He took it without looking. “I mean, if you’re looking for a _job_, they’re gonna be looking at your _portfolio_. You might as well just save yourself the suffering, you know what I mean?”

“Doesn’t change the fact that you’ve got Yorknew University on your resume,” Kurapika said. “That’s good for any job.”

“Yeah, but resumes don’t _matter_ in my field,” Killua insisted. “It’s different for you guys because your employers actually read that shit.”

“My employers can’t read for shit,” Kurapika said.

“My employers can eat shit,” Gon said.

“All of the above,” Killua said. If they had drinks, they would have cheered to that, but alas, all Killua had was a Camelback on its last leg and some SunnyD. He had a SunnyD addiction.

At the end of the movie, the night faded without tension. It was, perhaps, the smoothest exit he had ever taken from a social excursion. They chatted, finished off their drinks, cleaned up, and Gon and Kurapika were out the door before ten o’ clock rolled around. For a night owl like Killua, it was impressive. Afterwards, with his back pressed to the closed front door, he stared into his apartment with what he expected to be a wave of relief. Instead, he just felt… calm.

_That was nice_, he thought, which he rarely ever thought when it came to social interactions. Conversing with people was _hard_, exhausting, and overwhelming. But with Kurapika and Gon (and the help of Kurapika’s stash), he made it through unscathed. 

Killua put a hand to his hair before turning around and locking the door. He stepped into the room feeling fuzzy in his chest. He tried to put words to it, and after a moment of standing blankly in the middle of the room, he determined that it must be what it felt like to find a consistent friend. His three years of university had provided him with temporary friends here and there, and long term ones he only ever saw on occasion. 

Gon and Kurapika felt _different_. Perhaps Killua was just curious, or perhaps he just had the hots for them both. He couldn’t be sure which interpretation better fit the fluffy, airy sensation in his chest.

He rubbed a hand over his chest and thought, _Probably just heartburn_.


	2. Honey, You've Got A Big Storm Coming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killua The Art Student, meet Retz, The Nude Model.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It started with a simple statement.

“Hey, I should give you my Snapchat.”

Gon ceased all motor function. He looked up from his notebook and glanced over at Killua, who had his chin propped up on his hand, his elbow to the measly little desk attached to the lecture seat. Gon passed his tongue over his lips, glanced away, and back again. “What?” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

Killua rolled his eyes to the front of the class. The professor had her back to them writing their midterm information on the whiteboard. “I _said_, we should exchange Snapchats. I mean, texting is fine and all but…” _I want to see your face?_ he thought, unable to voice it out loud. 

They had exchanged numbers the first week of classes. It was the third week now and they had already watched seven movies together—both with and without Kurapika as their chaperone. Without Kurapika, Killua had somehow managed to _keep it in his pants_ by one simple strategy: Calling Gon his ‘bro’, or whatever it is the straight, frat boys said these days. It was the biggest turn off of the century for Killua.

“I… don’t have a Snapchat,” Gon said, eyes returning to his paper. 

Killua stared at his profile, but Gon was back to copying down the midterm information. “What do you mean you don’t have Snapchat?” Killua whisper-shouted. He was too shocked to think of anything other than the fact that Snapchat wasn’t, in fact, somewhere on Gon’s phone.

“I don’t know,” Gon said, helpless. He shrugged and shook his head. “I just… don’t have it.”

“Oh,” Killua huffed. He looked away, only to turn back and ask, “What about Instagram?”

“You know, I’m not really big on social media?” Gon said with another shrug, glancing sparingly at Killua. It was the first time they had ever aggressively differed—not even Killua’s absurd distaste in gym culture could compare to how bizarre it was to have this conversation with Gon. And here he thought he and Gon were one and the same—albeit, as two completely different races. 

“You’re not—” Killua started, but at that moment, their professor dismissed the class and everyone was scrambling to get the Hell out for the weekend. The sound of chairs flipping up and collapsing drowned out whatever he was going to say, and Gon was already throwing his shit into his backpack haphazardly. It felt very much like a getaway, so Killua didn’t even stand when Gon got to his feet.

“I gotta run. I’ll talk to ya later?” Gon said, putting a hand up to his cheek like he was answering a phone. He smiled, and somehow Killua just _knew_ that _Gon_ knew just how much his smile resembled kryptonite. 

“‘Kay,” Killua said, breathless. 

Gon gave him a thumbs up and hurried off, jogging down the steps of the lecture hall and out through the door flooded with students. Killua slumped over his puny desk and groaned miserably into the lined pages of his notebook. _Even Gon’s ass looks good_, he thought after catching a glimpse of it in the crowd. 

He straightened after a moment and set to work packing up. The lecture hall thinned out until it was just him and a handful of students asking the professor questions up front. It took longer than expected for him to brush off the awkward feeling he had from being told _no_ by Gon. It felt _wrong_ for Gon to not have a social media—like he was committing some sort of _injustice_ by keeping his attractiveness in a local sphere, limited to New York City.

Killua sighed. _I really have no say in it. We’ve only known each other for three weeks_, he told himself. Still, he felt giddy from the fact that he had somehow scored Gon’s friendship despite being as awkward as a goddamn platypus. Gon still sat next to him in lecture, even after all this time. If Gon didn’t like him, he would have stopped talking to Killua ages ago.

With this in mind, he dispelled the preposterous idea that Gon didn’t like him as a friend. Gon wouldn’t _lie_ about not having social media, right?

Killua paused.

_Right?_

He put his lecture desk down and shouldered his backpack. Once that was settled, he took out his phone and opened Instagram. _Just to be sure…_

Killua spent his entire walk back to his apartment searching for Gon across all forms of social media. But, alas, within the twenty minute walk he came up with nothing. Nada. Zilch. And Killua’s confidence in Gon plummeted. Who the fuck just _didn’t_ have social media these days? Gon-fucking-Freecss, apparently. Killua wanted to scream and tear his hair out in frustration.

_Why do I want to look at his face so damn much?_ he thought, stomping into his apartment complex. He shoved the key into the lock and bumped the door open with his shoulder. When the door was closed, he put his forehead to it and determined one crucial fact: that he was desperate for Freecss.

This fact wasn’t processed fully at the time. He put the stamp of approval on it, sure, and mailed it off to be processed, of course, but it would take up to two to three business days for him to get the receipt. And boy-fucking-howdy, the receipt surely came.

All over his bedsheets.

He woke up in a hot sweat in the middle of the night, cursing, “_Oh, fuck_,” under his breath as he rolled onto his side and grimaced at the dull, tedious throbbing in his groin. He couldn’t remember the dream for the life of him, but _dammit_ if he didn’t know who it was about. 

Killua kicked his sheets off and groaned. _God, that’s embarrassing_, he thought, despite living _all alone_ in a shitty, NYC broom closet of an apartment. Truthfully, he hated waking up with a hard on, and no amount of thinking about Gon would make it comfortable for Killua.

His boxers were already soaked through by the time he pushed himself to the edge of the bed. His brain swam in his skull, groggy but fully awake from the shock of waking up from a dream like _that_. A shudder went down his spine as he cursed and pushed himself to his feet. He pulled his boxers from his waist and shucked them off, kicking his feet out to send them flying towards the hamper. He knew he’d regret dealing with them tomorrow, since he was already regretting dealing with any of this shit at four in the goddamn morning.

He palmed at his crotch as he staggered into the bathroom. He knew the drill, he’d been through this before, so he treated it like every late night need to piss until the exact moment the dilemma required more _physical _attention.

And, thus was how Killua wound up regretting his half-awake actions several hours later at the sound of his alarm going off. He slapped his phone to stop with that obnoxious yodeling, only to lie awake in bed staring up at his ceiling. In a daze, he recalled waking up in the middle of the night, what he had _done_, all in the name of some guy he sat next to in Greek History class. 

“Fuck,” he said again, slapping a hand over his tired eyes. He felt disgusting in every sense of the word. His sheets were stiff from sweating through them several hours before, and he never even bothered to put new boxers on. He _hated_ 4AM Killua.

Killua never considered himself a horndog, though, so he chalked it off as a one-off. No way in _Hell_ was he going to let that happen again. It was pathetic enough that he found his aggressively straight college “bro” attractive, but to _have a wet dream_ about him? No way. Killua was putting his fucking foot down. Consider the foot: down. It was about as sturdy and impenetrable as the goddamn Trojan gates.

Unfortunately, all it took was a Trojan Horse (and maybe a Trojan condom) to break ‘em down. Trojan Horses came in all shapes and sizes these days, though, as Killua was well aware, but several days later it came rolling up to Killua’s gates in the form of Gon Freecss wearing a muscle tee and wireframe glasses. 

_Glasses_. The guy wore _glasses_. 

_That’s an instant nut right there_, Killua thought, a hand over his forehead, over his eyes, his cheeks. He wiped his hand over his mouth to check for drool as Gon slipped past him into the apartment sporting two beers and said, “I risked getting arrested for this shit.”

“You coulda covered that shit up with a bag—not that hard,” Killua said, slamming the door. The Trojan Horse was _in_, and it was standing right next to the war zone of Killua’s bed. Thank fuck he already washed the damn sheets before Gon dropped down on top of them, kicked his shoes off, and fell back on the bed. “Since when did you wear glasses?”

“Oh, I don’t. They look good though, huh?” Gon said, tipping the glasses up as he leant back against the pillows, a hand behind his head. 

“You’re sexing up the place. Off of my bed, Freecss,” Killua said, shooing the guy away. As if he wasn’t embarrassed enough by the actions he committed several nights prior. “This ain’t no Calvin Klein photoshoot.”

“Really? You think I’d make a good model?” Gon said, sitting up. 

Killua pushed him by the shoulders, off the bed, and to the futon. As Gon staggered off balance and collapsed, Killua said, “I’m saying I’m gay, asshole, and you sprawling all over my bed is a dangerous situation for me to be in.”

“Okay, well, on that topic,” Gon said, arms reclined over the back of the futon. He propped his ankle up on his knee and said, “Would you top?”

“What?” Killua said, startled. He was caught midway to sitting down. 

Gon shrugged. “Are you a top or bottom?”

“Does it matter?” he said, voice cracking. Truth be told, he already had an incredibly vivid fantasy in his head of Gon fucking him into oblivion, but he wasn’t about to admit to it. He had a sliver of dignity to uphold after that wet dream that continued to haunt him day and night, and while there was nothing inherently wrong with being a bottom, it made him feel hot and desperate as he sat across from Gon in his measly New York apartment.

He picked up one of the beers from the ground and cracked it open on the edge of the nightstand. 

Killua was just taking a sip when Gon said, “I get top vibes from you.”

Killua choked, sputtered, and clasped the back of his hand to his lips. Gon gestured and said, “See?”

“Jesus, Gon,” Killua huffed. “Are we really talking about this?”

“What? As your straight friend, I’m interested to know.”

“What, so am I now the gay friend who goes _shopping_ with you and talks about _boys_,” Killua said in the best preppy voice he could manage. He scooted back on the bed so his back rested against the wall. He waved the beer bottle half-heartedly and said, “I don’t know why I’m surprised your gaydar is shit. _Obviously_ I’m a bottom.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You can tell from my level of anxiety and desperation,” Killua said and made a show of gesturing to his face like he was one headshot away from scoring a gig in some NYC modeling agency. 

Gon pushed to the edge of the futon, leaning over his knees. “I never would have guessed,” he said, eyes wide. “What does it feel like?”

“Getting fucked in the ass?”

“Yeah.”

“If you wanna know so badly, buy a dildo,” Killua said. 

It was the wrong thing to say, but Killua wouldn’t know that straight away. In fact, he wouldn’t know that until it was closer to the weekend. The chain of events went as follows:

Tuesday. 

Gon had stayed the night for the sole purpose of being closer to the gym in the morning. Evidently, his apartment complex was a hike and a half from campus, but also, sleeping over was mostly by accident. They had watched two entire Indiana Jones movies in one sitting, which tipped the scales closer to one in the morning. Too late to be walking the streets, definitely.

It was a miracle Killua was able to keep his shit together, and by nine in the morning, they were out the door and Killua was shouldering his canvas portfolio bag in preparation for class. They walked together until they passed the gym and went their separate ways. Killua didn’t look back, not even to see Gon’s juicy ass, and turned the corner to the fine arts building. He haphazardly crossed the street between breaks in the traffic and hopped onto the curb, portfolio bag bouncing against his hip.

On the second floor of the building, where the wide windows were drawn closed with curtains, Killua entered the classroom fully prepared for figure drawing. His fee was paid, his supplies bought, and there was a sketchbook the size of Russia stashed in his bag. He pulled it out as the professor joined the class and switched the ceiling lights to the spotlights that circled the platform at the epicenter of the drafting tables.

Killua pushed himself up onto his stool as one familiar classmate joined him on his left side. The guy’s name was Zushi, and they had suffered through the hellfire that was Color Class freshmen year. Courses like that tended to bring peers together out of survival necessity.

“Hey man, what’s good?” Zushi said. There was a dull chatter across the classroom as they waited for the professor to kickstart the session.

“You know that straight guy I told you about?”

“A travesty, really,” Zushi said.

“Yeah, well, he stayed the night in my apartment.”

“You’re kidding. I knew you had it in you. Literally. His—you know—_in_ you—”

“I know what you mean, and that didn’t happen,” Killua huffed. He hadn’t even _begged for it_ the previous night, which was uncharacteristic of him. Who would _willingly_ sit through two and a half Indiana Jones movies without the promise of getting dicked halfway through? 

He popped open his pencil set and put it to his lap with a sigh. He turned to Zushi and said, “You know, I straight up told him to buy a dildo. I’m losing control.”

“Wow,” Zushi said, eyes wide. “I’m… not at all surprised.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Do you think he’s actually gonna do it?”

“Nah, I think it was just the classic straight thing to ask about.”

“What’d he ask about?”

“Whether I’m a top or bottom.”

Zushi gasped like they were in some soap opera and he just found out Killua was a mistress. “For shame! You can’t just ask that. It’s an _air_ one _exudes_,” he said, dramatically, and Killua snorted. 

Class began, and the model was introduced. She stepped into the platform lights, away from where their professor stood on the edge of the glow. Killua’s eyes traveled up the floral robe from her bare feet to her thick blonde hair. She looked kind of like a ripoff Meg Ryan, but with less… I’d-like-to-speak-to-your-manager vibes. And then, she turned her head, and Killua and Zushi got a full view of those eerie blue eyes and _damn_, they put Killua’s to shame. Killua’s were duller and grey more often than not, but _this chick—_

“Students, I’d like you to meet Retz, our model for the week. Retz, tell us a little about yourself.”

The girl put her hands on her narrow hips and circled around again, as if she could see any of them beyond the spotlights. “Well, let’s see…” she started, head tipped to the side. “I mostly do photography and aerial gymnastics, and I’m an avid plant enthusiast which… isn’t all that ideal for a single digit floor in a New York apartment.”

A laugh went around the room, and Killua looked at Zushi, who looked like he might drool and melt all over his draft table. Killua slapped Zushi on the arm to snap him out of it. 

Class commenced and the model’s robe slipped from her shoulders. She swept it off to the side and dropped it to the chair beside the platform. Killua wasn’t at all straight, but _damn_, this girl’s body was _fit_. She was all limbs and taunt muscle on her lean figure. Killua swallowed hard as the timer started and he was supposed to be drawing. 

He marked down the height of her build and the general gesture of her arm across her midsection. She was turned away from them, but he could still make out the edge of her soft jaw and the curve of her long, brown eyelashes. He marked in faint graphite the line that connected her eyes to the tips of her ears, following the curve of her short, wispy hair. 

Warmup sketches lasted all of fifteen minutes before their professor had Retz performing longer poses and the students experimenting with charcoal. Charcoal was Killua’s favorite medium—and not because it made him feel like Leonardo Di Caprio on the Titanic, but because the texture of raw charcoal on the pads of his fingers was _so satisfying_. The way it smoothed over his pores, molded to his fingerprint, and coated every fiber of his paper reminded him of why he was even paying tuition in the first place.

Near the end of class, the professor switched the lights back on and Retz slipped the robe back over her shoulders and let the ties hang loose at her sides. Killua couldn’t miss the way Zushi’s eyes trailed after her as she went to the back room to dress while everyone else tore pages from their sketchbooks for critique. 

The girl glanced back at the room as she opened the door. Killua slapped Zushi’s hand down before he could raise a dreamy wave. “You’re hopeless, you know that?” Killua said. “Hitting on a nude model? Really, dude?”

“_Sorry_,” he whined, pouting down at his sketchbook. He tore a paper from it where a full page sketch of Retz was enveloped in thick strokes of charcoal. “She’s just… really cute.”

“Cute,” Killua repeated. The word seemed better suited for a cat, not a nude model.

They crossed the room together, and Killua figured that’d be it. They’d go back to how nude modeling in figure drawing was _supposed_ to go—cordially, no boundaries crossed, but Zushi was already crossing boundaries. When Thursday arrived and Killua stepped into the classroom, he hesitated at the sight of Zushi visibly _vibrating_ in his seat, feet tapping against the stool legs, his eyes brightening at the sight of Killua. 

_Oh no_, he thought to himself as he continued the treacherous walk across the drawing room. His portfolio bag barely touched the ground before Zushi was scrambling over, grabbing his drafting table with both hands to steady himself, and saying:

“She has a HUNter account,” Zushi whispered.

_Hunter_, Killua thought, and it took a moment for him to process what, or _who_, exactly, they were talking about. Retz, the nude model Zushi was obsessed with. Nude modeling. _HUN_ter, as in, the pornographic live-streaming service that Killua refused to touch with a ten foot pole. His imagination was wild enough as it was. 

“Excuse me?” Killua said. “Where did you get _that_ from?”

“Well, you know how she said she did photography?” Zushi was whispering, like this was some great big conspiracy. Like he didn’t want their peers to know—for good reason. “Well, I looked into it and turns out it’s _more_ than just that. I mean, yeah, she’s got an entire nude portrait portfolio but she failed to mention that it was _explicit shit_.”

Killua sputtered uselessly for a moment because he couldn’t focus his energy both on unpacking his drawing shit _and_ Zushi’s bullshit. After depositing his sketchbook on the table, he said, “You—! What did you _expect?_ She’s _naked_, of course it’s explicit.”

“_No_,” Zushi hissed, waving his hands frantically. “She’s a _porn star_.”

Killua stared at Zushi. Zushi stared back. They stared at one another for an entire five, dreadful seconds before they were interrupted by the lights dimming and the professor announcing the start of class.

Retz was here.

_Shit_.

Killua didn’t consider himself anything other than _gay_, but he was _intrigued_. That entire three hour studio period was spent _thinking about it_. This girl looked like an Instagram influencer—not a _porn industry influencer_. She was fit, lithe, and… not what Killua expected of a cam girl. 

So when he left studio that day, exasperated and _exhausted_ from overthinking everything, he jabbed a finger at Zushi and said, “Promise me you won’t harass her.”

“Wh-Who said I harass people?!” Zushi squeaked. “I’m just a soft bi boy, my guy.”

“Yeah, and I’m not about to watch you turn into a delinquent bi boy,” Killua said. “_Promise me_.”

“Okay! Alright, fine, I won’t look at her stuff anymore,” he promised. 

They high-fived on it and Killua was off. He rubbed a hand over his forehead and sighed. It was _not_ what he expected to get out of that day, but he was one step closer to discovering something dreadfully life changing that would happen that night.

Thursday night. 

Killua threw his portfolio bag aside, kicked his shoes off, and dove for his laptop. It was half-open on his bed, and he was on that shit like dogs on manure. Zushi’s bullshit reeked like a motherfucker through his head, tainting his goodwill, sanity, and self-control. He could feel its acid seeping through him as he pulled up the HUNter website and searched Retz by name.

And she came up at the top of the results.

Killua half-covered his eyes from the absurd thumbnails that riddled the results. They were as tame as a porn site could get—risqué, feminine, but never quite explicit enough to make Killua gag. He choked back the knot at the back of his throat and cleared it as he clicked onto her profile where her picture displayed her bust strapped in a leather corset and her perfect red lips opened wide, her tongue against the blade of a _knife_.

Killua put his fist to his mouth and whispered, “Holy shit,” and scrolled further into the abyss that was HUNter.

His class’s nude model was a _dominatrix_, and a _popular_ one at that.

Killua hesitated to click any of the titles. HUNter was treated more or less like a form of erotic YouTube—with popular faces, familiar names, and stupid challenges like, “_Homemade Sex Toys Challenge!_” or “_Sex In Public Challenge!_” or “_Dogging Challenge ;)_”. Considering the casualty of it, HUNter became famous for its candidness, the intimacy of fun, carefree sex and masterbation—unless that wasn’t your schtick. In that case, it sounded like Retz was closer in line with _other_ fetishes. 

Specifically, BDSM. 

She did, however, participate in a few challenges. He searched for the least obnoxious one he could find with a thumbnail that didn’t make him want to vomit. He paused at a video listed only as, “_Chastity Belts? Edging A Newbie feat. Freakss_.” The thumbnail was of Retz biting her lip, winking at the camera with a cock cage strung between her fingers. Beside her was a silhouette of a person blurred out and overlaid with a question mark.

The video started out with a plain room barely in focus. Killua had his fingers pinched over his bottom lip, his breath caught in his throat. He waited the whole two seconds of silence before Retz sprung into view side by side with—

“_Shit!_” Killua screamed, slamming his laptop shut. He gasped so hard he started choking. 

He coughed into his elbow, cursing again. His hand was flat over his laptop, his heart racing, eyes wide and wild and holy _fuck_. His day just got a whole lot weirder, and he hoped it was just some mistake. Some trick of the light, perhaps? Because there was no way his Greek History lecture buddy was not only A) fucking his figure drawing nude model, but also B) a _known_ cam boy. 

_That wasn’t Freecss_, Killua told himself, but he couldn’t relax. He couldn’t _breathe_, dammit. 

He ran a hand through his hair and hooked his thumb against the edge of his laptop. He hesitated. After closing his eyes, taking a deep, strained breath, he shoved his laptop open to the sound of Retz and her guest star exclaiming, “_Hey guys! Welcome to my—”_

_ “Retz’—”_

_ “Channel_…” Retz concluded with an adorable giggle. 

Killua peeked opened one eye, just to make sure it was real. That this was really happening. He opened both eyes to the sight of Gon-fucking-Freecss _on camera_ with a famous _dominatrix_. He pulled his knees up to his chest and clasped both hands over his mouth, watching in horror as Retz put her arms lovingly around Gon’s neck and said, “_First of all, you should know from the title of this video that this isn’t my usual catering, but I just fell in love with this boy right here. So I’ve taken it upon myself to teach him the wonders of my work._”

“_Thanks for inviting me over_,” Gon said. His voice was _dreamy_ and _sultry_ and every ounce of the person Killua knew, whispering to him in the back of the lecture hall about how fucking stoked he was to take a course on Alexander the Great in spring semester. Killua could have died right then and there if it weren’t for his determination to sit through every second of this. It’d kill him in the end, sure, but it didn’t change the fact that he _had to know_.

He had to know if this was _real_.

Killua had his hands to his mouth for so long that a solid, red imprint of his fingers was left behind when he put his hands to his hair, his chin to his knees, and watched numbly as Retz sweetly explained what a chastity belt was to a _very_ excited Gon. It seemed like Gon didn’t know what he was getting himself into—quite literally. Killua tried to picture the same, sweet girl from figure drawing class holding a cock cage. He couldn’t, not even when she was right in front of him watching Gon undress.

Killua put a hand over his eyes, only to peek between his fingers when he heard Gon’s fly come undone. He could hear his own heart thudding in his ears, creeping up his throat, and spreading heat across every part of his pathetic existence. 

Gon stepped out of the jeans.

He went for the waistband of his boxers.

Retz was biting her lip, eyeing the camera lens just before Gon’s underwear dropped.

Killua _really_ tried not to look, but alas. 

Even flaccid, Killua had a hard time processing that he was, in fact, staring at his straight friend’s dick. He was staring Gon Freecss’ dick in the eye, and it was staring right back at him through the screen. He wasn’t _just_ staring, though. This was the look of a goddamn animal with prey in its sights after being starved for days. Killua couldn’t breathe. He was so fucking focused that he didn’t realize he popped a boner until Gon’s underwear was tossed aside, the chastity belt was stepped into, and Retz was locking that delectable piece of meat away. 

After locking him up and stowing away the key, she ran her hands along Gon’s hips and tugged him back against her front. Every part of Killua shivered at the _sound_ Gon made as he breathed, “_Oh—So what now?_” 

“_Now…_” Retz’ voice carried over to Killua like silk gliding across the back of his neck. He shuddered, hugging his knees closer despite the painful ache in his groin from seeing Gon _shirtless_ and _pants-less_ on his computer. She trailed her fingers along the soft, sensitive skin of Gon’s pelvis, along the line of the belt straps. “_Now, you wear this for a week, and I’ll check in with you every day. Okay, hun?_”

Gon blinked, eyes lifting from the cup over his cock. He looked at the camera, and then back at Retz. Retz caught his chin in her hand instantly, turning him back around with her chin hooked over his shoulder. She was smiling like the devil she was as Gon said, “_A week?_”

“_A whole week. And you’ll be getting a visit from me every day_,” she said. She tipped her head against his shoulder, smiling up at his dumbfounded expression.

She still had Gon’s chin in a vice grip as he said. “_Wait—I thought we were having sex—_”

Killua clicked out of the tab as fast as he could.

Only to hesitate. 

_Freakss_, he thought. God, he was so stupid. He dropped his forehead to his knees and groaned. The username wasn’t far off from Gon’s last name—he should have been able to find it before. And now? Now he was typing it into the HUNter website’s global search and coming up with a top result featuring Gon-fucking-Freecss as the star of the show. Specifically, a show hosting several hundred _thousand_ followers.

_No fucking way_, Killua thought. _There’s no way Gon’s is a porn star_.

He clicked onto the account’s profile page. There, in perfect clarity, was a picture of Gon’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very excited for shit to hit the fan.


	3. Broke Bitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gon, balls deep in Killua's ass: "I'm straight."

Friday.

Killua woke up in a hot, dreadful sweat—again.

And he remembered the entire dream in such vivid clarity that he could _smell_ the sex in the air like salt and vinegar on his skin. 

He kicked his sheets back and threw his head down on the pillow. “_Fuck_ing _shit_,” he swore, hands over his face. He pushed his fingers through his hair before stilling, his eyes on his ceiling. Street lights were strewn across the pockmarked ceiling, and the dull hum of the New York streets pushed into his hollow room and the dreadfully hot shell that was his body. 

He shivered. It was nearly October but he could already feel the winter sinking in his bones. _God_, did he loathe the cold, especially in New York City. He wasn’t about to be caught reenacting _The Day After Tomorrow_. He’d rather burn in Hell—or, alternatively, in an Arizona hellfire. That too.

Killua pushed himself up and stilled at the visceral image of Gon Freecss stepping up to the bed, his knee between Killua’s thighs. He propped his hand between his legs and clutched at the sheets, the other still gripping his hair over his tired, exhausted eyes. _Not now_… he thought, but his dick was already stiff against his thigh, pulsing and _hot_. He was _hot_ all over now despite the sharp, damp chill in the air. 

It didn’t help that his mind’s eye knew _exactly_ what laid between Gon’s legs—Killua, licking a clean stripe along the underside of his dick. Killua, with his head between Gon’s thighs, swallowing him whole like he could pretend he _didn’t_, in fact, have a gag reflex. 

He imagined Gon’s fingers following the trail Retz took along that fair, olive skin on his pelvis, hooking over his balls and stroking himself to life with a clear, glossy shine of lube on his fingers. He imagined Gon with those ridiculous fake glasses, reclining on his bed just _days_ before. _That same week_, Gon had been in his bed. 

Who knew _when_ Gon had collaborated with Retz. Was it before? After? _During?_

“Fuck,” Killua thought, getting to his feet. For all he knew, Gon had been wearing the chastity belt _then_. 

He went for his computer. For the drawer on his nightstand.

He snapped open his laptop with a grimace. The light was blinding, and after dimming it a touch, he realized that he hadn’t ever exited out of Gon’s profile before calling it quits. He clicked the first available video, and in the light of his computer screen and the periodic passing of headlights several floors below, he shimmied out of his underwear. 

He skipped ahead in the video, to the point where there was nothing between Gon’s tanned, olive skin and those white bedsheets. Killua had always guessed that the guy was fit as fuck, but _damn_, did he underestimate those muscles because Gon was _full of ‘em_. With one knee off to the side and the other pulled up, Gon propped his arm over his knee and, through the speakers, said, “_I’ve never tried one of these before_.”

In his hands was a glass dildo.

Not just any dildo—an _anal_ plug. It had more length to it than an average plug, and as Killua’s groggy, pent up brain tried to catch up, he determined one thing: It was good for starters, but he could tell straight away that it wouldn’t be reaching any sort of deep, penetrative orgasms. 

Gon put his knee to the sheets and sat up, on full display and _hard already_. _Geez fucking Louise, this guy doesn’t give two shits, does it?_ Killua thought because holy _shit_, was this guy packing. Killua hadn’t slept with too many guys—a handful, really, and that was back in his cursed, freshmen year existence. He somehow had a knack for targeting five-inch guys (for better or for worse, but he was satisfied regardless) who had a tendency to fuck right off after the deed was done (for worse, definitely for worse).

Killua lathered his fingers in lube. Soon, his skin felt waxy and slick between his thumb and forefinger, along his middle finger, and dripping down his wrist as he reached back. All the while, Gon’s voice was in his ears, droning out in the noise of Killua’s nonexistent brainpower at this ungodly hour of the morning. 

Gon was warming the dildo up against his chest. It was a sponsored video, evidently, because the guy had, like, _seven_ different lubes on the bed in front of him and he was waiting for his viewers to pick _The One_. 

_He must do live streams then_, Killua thought, slowly picking up all of the pieces as he pushed a finger in and watched Gon lather the dildo up to oily perfection. _Is he even gonna prep? He fucking better or_—

Gon reached behind him and, with a wink at the camera, pulled out a _butt plug_. “_Also from the unboxing. I’ve heard it helps_,” he said and tossed it haphazardly off of the bed. 

Killua wasn’t sure if he was horrified or impressed that Gon had sat through an entire ten or so minutes acting like he didn’t have the equivalent of two fingers shoved up his ass.

And then, with the click of a remote, he switched cameras and got into position. The items on the bed were strewn aside. He read the chat, briefly, and laughed as he tossed a pillow onto the sheets and said, “_Yeah, I had Penni look over the sponsored gear before I had it sent to my PO box. This is all Penniwise-approved content because I don’t know what I’m doing. I think the pillow is supposed to give me more leverage?_”

As Gon relaxed back on the bed with the close up camera in full view of _everything—_from his slicked, lubed hole to the weight of his erection—the guy put his eyes back to the chat on stream to read off another question.

“_Do I think about anyone when I’m masterbating?_” he said, chin tipped back. He spread his knees, heels hooked at the edge of the bed. He put one foot on the bed post for support. “_Not really? I don’t think I’ve ever thought of anyone when I masterbate, if I’m being honest. My brain goes blank_.”

Killua spread his fingers wide and groaned at the sensation. _Yeah, that sounds like him_, he thought, and it just confirmed the ridiculous conspiracy theory he had been routing for in his head that said this wasn’t, in fact, Gon Freecss, but was instead some uncanny doppelgänger. 

Gon read the chat again. “_Think about someone? I mean, I can try—for, like, twenty bucks_.”

Instantly the pings came in. 

Gon laughed and pushed the tip of the warmed-up, shiny, glass dildo between his cheeks. His smile tipped out of view with a strained groan as he pushed the tip of it in. The girth was nothing compared to that of an actual penis, but Killua remembered his first time well enough to know that smaller was better the first time around.

Killua pushed himself down onto his own dildo, a deep groan at the back of his throat as he took every inch with Gon’s hot, reddened cock in full view. He bit his lip, legs shaking, and listened for the breathy, guttural sound Gon made when he was fully seated. 

“_Fuck_,” Gon gasped, his head tipped back and out of view. The remote was abandoned off to the side, his fists clenched against the seat, his toes curling against the bedpost. When he looked down, Killua cursed at the sight of Gon’s flushed cheeks, his mused-up hair, and those perfect, dark brows twisted up that delicious blend of strained arousal. It twisted the tense thread in Killua’s chest ever tighter as he matched Gon’s thrust. 

White-hot heat bloomed in his chest at the sound of Gon’s raw, strung-out voice panting on the speakers. He was on the brink through all of it—that tension in his chest threatening to spring loose every time he bottomed out until the exact moment he couldn’t hold on any longer and came in white stripes over his cutoff t-shirt.

He slumped and let the dildo flop off the bed and onto the floor. It rolled off to the side as Killua let out a relieved breath, only for it to hitch when Gon threw his head back against the sheets and came with a choked, blissed sound that carried the broken rhythm of, “_K-Kill—lu—_”

Killua’s post-orgasm high flew straight out the window like Killua’s computer when he swiped it straight off of the bed and across the room where it shattered, splintered, and broke into two perfect rectangles against the wood flooring.

Killua stared at the two halves of his laptop on the ground, horrified. He continued to stare, even as some dreadful crackling peppered the speakers. He didn’t move—at least, not at first.

And then, the audio came back in crystal-clear clarity at peak volume. It blared louder than any goddamn sporting event loudspeaker screaming the audio of the wet dildo squelching out of Gon’s ass as he said, “_FUCK, I HAVEN’T CUMMED THAT HARD SINCE—_”

Killua flew across the room and bashed the keyboard, frantic to _shut it up_. The audio was hopelessly broken, though, so he grabbed the keyboard half of the computer and slammed it over his knee like he was splitting a plank of plywood. 

“_Holy FUCK_,” Killua cursed, crumpling in agony. _That_ would surely bruise, but at least he had shut up Gon’s video once and for all.

* * *

There was a bruise the size of Antarctica on Killua’s kneecap that _screamed_ bloody murder with every step he took to his Greek History lecture. He was certain that this level of pain warranted an X-Ray of some kind, but the state of his unofficial disowning prevented him from sparing the cash. It’d take more than a few aggressively ruptured blood vessels to get _him_ into a doctor’s office. 

Thankfully, though, it was cold enough to wear his favorite pair of joggers and a sweatshirt that was suitable for the dead of winter. He trudged to class feeling like shit and wishing he would have chugged more coffee before setting foot in the lecture hall that morning because the moment he did, his eyes landed on the blundering idiot right where they usually sat.

Gon was already there, leant back in his seat, arms crossed and looking smug as hell. He had a foot propped up on the lecture seat in front of him, and when he caught Killua’s eye, he raised a hand in a cheeky little wave. To Killua, it all sang, “_I know what you did last night_…”

Killua had already promised himself one thing: He’d throw himself in front of the first available subway if he ever ratted himself out. There was no way Gon Freecss could know, and that was that.

Killua marched up the steps of thehall to the very back where he and Gon often snickered to each other all through lecture. He dropped his backpack down (which was made lighter than usual without his laptop in it) and pulled out a notebook for class.

“Ah, no laptop today I see,” Gon said. 

“Yeah, I snapped it in half over my knee this morning, so I’m saving up for a new one,” Killua said.

A moment of silence. “Wait, are you serious? Dude, is your knee okay?” he cried, horrified.

Killua stared at him just quick enough to avoid letting his eyes _focus_. If he _focused_, all he’d be able to see was Gon’s fucked-out expression on his browser window. He shook his head and looked down at his notebook. “_That’s_ what you’re focusing on? Dude, I snapped my laptop in half.”

“Yeah, but—I mean, that’s impressive, I guess? What did you expect me to say?” Gon said. 

Killua rolled his eyes. This was going nowhere. “My knee looks like I spilled India Ink all over it, but other than my bank account I’m fine.”

“Oh,” Gon hummed, leaning back in his chair. He crossed his arms again and furrowed his brow, thinking deeply. “I mean, I’ve been _planning_ on upgrading to a desktop. Would you want my old laptop?”

_Gon’s old laptop_… Killua wondered to himself. _I bet it’s full of his porn_.

“Nah, I don’t want your sloppy seconds,” he lied and Gon laughed as he scratched at his thick black hair.

His hair was standing all up on end as he sighed, “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Damn, that fucking blows, though. Right in the middle of the semester, too.”

“Yeah, it sucks ass,” Killua agreed, both comments sending his brain straight back to HUNter. He rubbed a hand over his forehead. _I’m a hopeless piece of garbage_, he mused. “I’m probably gonna work at Starbucks or something. Haven’t really decided.”

“Why?”

“Because I love customer service. No, you idiot, to replace my fucking laptop,” Killua said with a roll of his eyes. 

“Why don’t you just take my laptop?”

“I’m not gonna take your fucking laptop.”

“Why not?”

“_Why, why, why_,” Killua teased with as much sass as he could muster. “You’re being so weird today.”

Gon put his other foot on the seat in front of them. “_You’re_ being weird,” Gon muttered under his breath like a child.

Killua wanted to pull his hair out and scream at the top of his lungs, “_You’re the one who’s a porn star screaming my name when you cum!_” Instead of doing _that_, he pulled his hood over his hair and tugged the drawstrings as far as they would go as he slumped farther and farther into his seat. He summoned his inner potato and dissolved away from reality throughout all of lecture, but there was absolutely no possible way for him to quiet the clutter of his brain. His skull had become an echo chamber of Gon’s voice at full volume on his broken speakers unintentionally screaming, “_FUCK, I HAVEN’T CUMMED THAT HARD SINCE—_”

Killua wanted to shrivel up and die for approximately the tenth time within six hours.

When the class wrapped up, Killua straightened out of his stiff, anxious shell. His hands were cramping from handwriting all of his notes, and beside him, Gon was swiftly packing up, throwing his backpack on, and leaning back against the row of seats in front of them. He crossed his legs at the ankles as Killua put his desk down and avoided any and all eye contact. Now was _not_ the time for Gon to see him turn into a blustering mess. Though, somehow, Killua kept his cool when Gon said, “Where are you going next?”

“Food, and then applying to jobs. Why?” He really couldn’t face rejection on an empty stomach, anyway.

“I know this _great_ sushi place across Queensboro,” he said. 

Killua snorted. “Yeah, well, I am _not_ crossing the river for some fucking sushi.”

“We wouldn’t have to walk,” Gon said. Killua rose an eyebrow at him. Clearly not—subways were a thing, but that didn’t mean Killua was about to use it for sushi. “We could take my bike.”

“Your _bike?_” Killua snorted. 

“Yeah, I’ll show you.”

Killua had to admit: he _was_ intrigued. He eyed Gon suspiciously and only then realized that he had been able to maintain eye contact this whole time. Maybe he wasn’t _totally_ tainted by Gon’s online reputation, but it was still there, sinking its talons through Killua’s brain. 

He agreed to _see_ the bike, and then decide for himself how little he wanted to live. As they walked the short distance across campus, Killua was picturing some old fashioned Huffy bicycle with the bell and everything and Gon would gesture to the handlebars and say, “_Hop on,_” to which Killua would reply, “_I’d rather hop on your _dick_, dumbass_.” 

But then they were passing the bicycle racks and teetering on the narrow curb beside the parking ramp entrance. Gon hopped onto the pavement and cut across the lane, glancing over his shoulder to where Killua rose an eyebrow at him and continued after him. He still had his hood up, and he could feel the drawstring against the underside of his chin as he followed Gon to some red jeep where, on the other side, a motorcycle sat in its shadow.

When Killua glanced around the jeep, though, he turned away and threw his hands up. “Unbelievable,” he huffed.

“What? You don’t like it?” Gon said, gesturing to the _bike_.

Killua slapped his hands down and used the momentum to spin and peg Gon with a scowl. He backed away and jabbed a finger at him. “_You—!_ I thought you were talking about a fucking _bicycle_, not a fucking _Honda cruiser_.”

It had an old-style, chopper edge to it that was most notable in the pullback handlebars. It was all black and leather seats—two of them, the back with a rest and topped with followed up with a carrier attachment. Gon unlocked the attachment and replaced the helmet with his backpack. He held it out to Killua, who stared at him, at it, and back again.

“Have you ever ridden one before?” Gon asked.

Killua had, and he could already feel his ass aching, especially after the bullshit that happened at 4AM that morning. He and his brother had gone on a road trip stint on a motorcycle and Killua’s ass regretted it. That shit _hurt_ after a while.

But he wasn’t a pussy, so he took the helmet and huffed, “Yeah, you idiot. What college student owns a _motorcycle_?”

“One who got a killer deal on it,” Gon said with that crooked, distracting grin of his that reminded Killua why he ever got a hard on for the guy in the first place.

Killua let out an obnoxious groan, head lolled back, before shoving his head into the helmet. The visor smacked down over his eyes, so he flipped it up and scowled at Gon. He wondered if this was all just a ploy to feel Killua get it up in the middle of a motorcycle ride, but he prayed his adrenaline kept that shit on the down low as he mounted the back of the motorcycle after Gon. 

When the engine started up, Killua startled at the familiar, grueling sensation through the seat. He clutched onto the back of his seat, his feet hooked up on the back footrests and his weight lolling to the side as Gon steadied the bike, backed out of the parking spot, and turned around the corner to the exit. The breeze picked up and billowed against Killua’s oversized sweater.

They paused briefly just outside of the parking garage for a break in the traffic. When an opening came, Gon took it with enough force to send Killua scrambling forward, clutching at Gon’s waist. He gripped onto the guy’s jacket for the life of him, his eyes wide as he peered over Gon’s shoulder at the side mirrors that showed Gon’s snicker. 

_That bastard_, he thought, heart hammering in his chest. _He did that on purpose_.

Killua swallowed hard and settled in against Gon’s back—there was a reason the guy put his backpack in the carrier, after all, and that was to make room for Killua pressed up against his shoulder blades, his knees hooked on either side of Gon’s hips.

They weren’t far from the East River, and the bridge was in view the instant they turned left on the intersection onto 59th. The Queensboro Bridge swept high into the sky ahead of them, curving up to tall, pointed peaks like that of a fair tent. The broad, metal beams created hatch marks over their heads as Killua leant back from Gon to feel the air shift as they cut underneath the beams and through traffic. The roar of traffic tunneled and whistled with the wind carrying from the ocean.

Killua turned his eyes to the East River flickering between the beams like a film roll cutting between polaroid after polaroid. There were throngs of tourists walking along the path beside traffic, behind the barred, fenced-in lanes. The bridge went on for a long, blissful five minutes as traffic slowed and curved around a riverside complex and into the dense, concrete jungle.

The roads all echoed here, carrying the sound of car horns blaring dozens of blocks away, police sirens far off in the distance, and voices chattering in a dull, throbbing murmur along the slick, black shine of Gon’s reflective helmet. They turned down a quieter street where Gon snagged a sliver of a parking spot outside of a coffee shop. 

It was barely noon by the time Killua’s feet touched ground again and he staggered onto the curb, vaguely aware of the smile on his face as he popped the helmet off and handed it to Gon. Gon leaned across the seat, grinning, and said, “Good?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that was good,” Killua said as he tugged his hood down and fluffed his hair up. He passed his fingers through it several times as Gon locked up the helmet, the bike, and joined Killua on the curb. He checked his phone and mentally calculated just how tired he was. He pointed to the coffee shop and said, “I could go for some caffeine. I might stop in here real quick.”

Gon waited in line with him. It… _felt_ like a date, but thankfully, when it came time to pay, Killua glanced over at Gon and found him busy studying posters on the wall. After slipping his debit card back into his wallet, he wandered over to stand beside Gon and squint at the event posters, disinterested. He glanced at Gon, who didn’t seem all that bothered by the silence, as it was filled by jazzy cafe tunes and the sound of steam hissing through coffee grounds.

_He said he was straight…_ Killua thought, stilling when Gon glanced over at him and offered another wide smile. He smiled so easily while Killua always felt like he was constantly grimacing for a family portrait.

Gon pointed past Killua and said, “I think your drink is up.”

“O-Oh,” Killua stammered, spinning around. He grabbed it and hurried past Gon to the exit. “Let’s go,” he said, cheeks hot despite the nip in the smoggy, city air.

He was overthinking everything. _I mean, who wouldn’t?_ he thought, _Especially after finding out the guy had a sex fantasy about me. I’m allowed to overthink it!_ Yet, here Gon was, acting completely gentlemanly, suggesting they get _sushi_ together, driving him all the way across the Queensboro Bridge—as if Killua _wanted_ to be on the same island as Manhattan. 

He scratched irritably at his hair, rubbed at his neck, tugged at his sweatshirt, before at last grinding his heels to a halt against the concrete. Gon hesitated, turned, and rose an eyebrow at Killua.

A moment of silence, please, for Killua’s self-control.

“Is… Is this a date?” Killua asked.

Gon snorted and kept walking. “Pff, no. Dude, I’m straight. Why? Does it feel like a date?”

Killua was almost too floored to think, let alone _walk_. He moved ahead, thoughtless and confused. _Straight guys try anal?_ “Uh, yeah, kinda? You give me your fucking helmet, we’re getting sushi—”

“I do this with Kurapika all the time,” Gon said with a wave of his hand. 

_Kurapika_, Killua thought, as if it was the first time he had heard the name. Kurapika was Gon’s best friend—he had to have a better idea about this whole situation, one that might _make sense_.

And, so, thus commenced Killua’s research. Unfortunately for him, though, Kurapika was a slippery guy to get ahold of. Gon gave him Kurapika’s number to text, but it was fruitless. After a brief introductory message, Kurapika responded with, “_k_,” and nothing else. He never even answered Killua’s question about grabbing a coffee sometime together (completely platonically, mind you). 

All the while, the severity of the situation doubled, tripled, _quadrupled_ over the weekend. Not because of Real Life Gon, necessarily, but because of HUNter Gon, the Gon who streamed _that Friday night_ just hours after Gon dropped Killua off with his motorcycle. Killua wasn’t at a high enough subscription to obtain live stream access, and _fuck_, was he tempted. He was so tempted, in fact, that he momentarily lost consciousness and woke up to his phone on and signed in to his personal, anonymous account with full subscription benefits to Freakss. 

His computer was still in its grave next to the trash bin in the kitchen. Killua’s breath stilled as he held his phone in front of him and wished desperately that Kurapika would respond to his texts, just to distract him from the sight of Gon’s apartment on his screen, and Gon’s perfect face smiling at him with his ring light glinting in his amber eyes. 

He had never been to Gon’s apartment, and now, he knew it was for good reason. The guy’s apartment was _nice_ and _fully_ decked out with neon mood lighting and equipment. The guy had to have the largest, softest bed known to mankind. Killua wanted to roll all over it and absorb Gon’s scent into his very soul.

“_How was my day?_” Gon said, reading off of the chat. He ducked his head, his smile all soft cheeks and smile lines. “_It was good. Yeah, very low-key day. But how are you? I missed you guys_.”

Killua hadn’t thought to read the chat until then. All this time, his shock had all of his focus zeroed in on _Gon_. Now, he scrolled beneath the footage as Gon responded to comments as they filtered in. The messages were fast, some lewd, others loud, others sweet. Killua grimaced at the obnoxious ones—the ones that demanded Gon strip _now_, the vulgar ones that were immediately blocked by moderators. It seemed the Freakss fanbase wasn’t as wholesome as their curator. 

There was, however, a common theme among them, and it had a little something to do with the one video Killua had managed to watch almost to its entirity. “_Who were you thinking about last stream?_” “_Did you see your _special someone_ today?_” “_Will you try out your other toys tonight?_”

Gon got up from his chair. It swiveled as he walked off and picked up a box from under the bed. Killua recognized it, only because it was the exact box Gon had stored the freshly cleaned sex toys from the most recent video—an unboxing, where everything was already set and ready for use.

The chat was in a flurry. The viewer count was well past ten thousand. Killua put Gon’s video feed on full view to ignore the chaos below. 

“_I _am_ interested in trying more of these_,” Gon confessed as he sat back down and started shuffling through the items. He picked out a few, out of view, and raised them up one-by-one for advice and suggestions. 

Killua put a hand to his forehead. After Gon’s insistence that afternoon, he had been _so sure_ that the guy would call it quits on this shit. But there Gon was, holding up one dildo and then another. Another… and another…

“_Dude, I’m straight_,” he had said. _This isn’t a date_, was what he had meant. 

_Then why are you…?_ Killua mused, unable to finish the thought. He clutched at his hair, frustrated, but entirely too invested to delete his account. Mourn the loss of his _ten dollar subscription_. Pretend he had never, not even _once_, seen Gon’s dick with his own two, bleeding eyes. 

The decision was made. Gon’s donations were already in the hundreds with the promise of a quick shift to the bed. Killua’s clothes came off. Lube spread across Gon’s fingers. Killua’s thoughts became a mantra of, “_Fuck. Shit. Goddammit._”

Thus concluded the chain of events that dammed Killua to the pits of Hell—but that was just the beginning. He could go _so much lower_.


	4. Snitches Get Stitches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurapika and Gon, telepathically: "We should BOTH give Killua a heart attack."  
Killua, sweating, near tears: "Please don't."

Friday. An entire week later.

Kurapika responded to Killua’s third query, which was how Killua became subject to a surprise visit from the blonde-haired androgynous goddess that was Gon’s best friend.

Killua leaned away from the peephole on his apartment door with a frown. _How did he even get in the building?_ he thought, but unlocked the door anyway. 

He opened it a crack, and Kurapika barged right in. “I’ve got twenty minutes. Tell me what you need and I’ve probably got it, just don’t shoot me for it. I’ve got a fucking blackbelt, dude, so don’t even try me,” he said, hands up. 

Killua stared at him in shock. The door was still half-open, and Killua felt somehow _intruded_. He gestured vaguely into the room and said, “Hello, yes, welcome to my home. How did you…?”

“Oh, I just snuck in. Some places have cameras timed to buzzers so I was as swift as the wind, as the kids say,” Kurapika said. He put his hands to his hips, eyebrows raised, and said, “So what’ll it be?”

Killua shut the door, brow furrowed, and said, “I’m not—I’m not hear to _buy_ shit off of you. I just need to ask you something. Personal.”

Kurapika squinted at him. “Oh,” he huffed, and went to take a seat at Killua’s dingy kitchen table. He crossed an ankle over his knee and said, “Well, fuck, we coulda done this sooner. Why didn’t you say so?”

“What difference does _that_ make?”

“I can’t sell shit at all hours of the day, you know. This isn’t exactly an on-call gig I’m running,” Kurapika explained. He put an elbow to the table propped his fist against his temple, and motioned for Killua to join him in this charade. As if _Kurapika_ owned the place. “So, what is it?”

Killua stared at him. _Maybe I shouldn’t_… he thought, but then his eyes were flitting to his bed, where his phone was. Where every part of him _yearned_ to go back to it. Every fiber of his self control was fraying, splintering, splitting off.

And, so, he sat down across from Kurapika, sighed, and hoped he wasn’t about to ruin Gon and Kurapika’s friendship with this massive _bomb_. 

“Is—Do you think Gon’s bi?” he asked, raising an eyebrow up at Kurapika.

Kurapika furrowed his brow at Killua. “Why, you wanna fuck him?”

Killua blushed and said, “That—I mean—I don’t have to answer that.”

“I don’t know if he’s bi,” Kurapika said. “I don’t even know if he’s straight, if I’m being honest. The guy’s never been in a relationship before.”

Well, that was certainly new information. Killua blinked, startled, and then said with an accidental note of disgust, “_Really?_”

“Yeah, what’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing! It’s just… surprising.”

“Why, because he’s attractive and you’d fuck him?”

Killua rolled his eyes. “Why does _everything_ go back to fucking the guy? Would _you_ fuck him?”

“Oh, yeah, one hundred percent,” Kurapika said. He leant over the table, reaching for the window sill. He unlocked the window, opened it, and reached into the front breast pocket of his jacket for a pack of cigarettes. The moment he lit it, though, Killua could tell that it wasn’t tobacco from the earthy, sour scent that blew out through his apartment screen. He offered one to Killua as he said, “Gon’s the perfect specimen. He’s just an airhead sometimes, especially when it comes to shit like labels.”

Killua put his eyes to the table as Kurapika snapped the lighter to life against his joint. It crackled red and dulled to a deep brown until he took his first drag. 

“It wouldn’t hurt to just ask him,” Kurapika said.

“I have, though.”

“Have you asked him out?”

“No, you can’t just—He thinks he’s straight, so—”

“‘_Thinks_’?” Kurapika repeated. “How do _you_ know otherwise?”

“Gon’s a porn star,” he blurted out, eyes on the table. Kurapika said nothing as Killua leant against the surface, an arm folded against his chest, the other lifted to bring the joint to his mouth. His lips shook before he could even take another breath in. “And—I found out… and… now I can’t stop getting off to him. Even his straight porn, but mostly the live streams where he deep throats dildos—I don’t really care. I’ve probably jerked off to him a dozen or more times since Friday last week.”

Kurapika got up. Killua figured the guy was just gonna leave, but instead, he came back with a ceramic bowl from Killua’s cupboard and tapped his ashes into it. He stood next to Killua, hip leant against the table, as Killua went on.

“So the _reason_ I think otherwise… is because he’s been using dildos for anal on his live streams.”

“Oh,” Kurapika said.

“Oh? _Oh?_” Killua blurted out, angrier than he intended. “I tell you your best friend is a _porn star_ and all you can say is ‘_oh’_?” Killua stared up at him with a what’s-the-matter-with-you? look on his face. Kurapika just stared at him, that dull look in his eyes gone. Killua’s shoulders slumped. He pushed back into his seat and shook his head with a dry laugh. “You knew.”

Kurapika pursed his lips. He swallowed hard, looked away, and said, “Yeah, because I suggested he do it.”

Killua couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Who just _suggested_ that to a _friend?_ Maybe his hearing was going. Maybe his sight was going. Maybe he was just in a coma in a hospital room on life support and this was all some crazy, fucked up wet dream with a plot. 

He couldn’t say anything aside from a dumbfounded, “Excuse me?”

As Kurapika sighed, Killua put the joint to his lips again and wished he would have had Kurapika’s shit sooner. His stash had gone dry months ago, and hanging out with Gon and Kurapika meant he didn’t _need _a stash. Though, all this week, he’d been strung out, anxious, guilty, horrified. 

“Gon was going through a rough patch all through freshmen year. You know he was supposed to play for Yorknew football?” Kurapika asked, and Killua shook his head, eyes wide. Yorknew was in Division I football—prestigious, _beyond _competitive, and their players were treated like royalty on campus. Killua knew that because freshmen year, he fucked around with one of their linebackers. He was an idiot thinking they’d be serious, but football was everything to a Yorknew athlete. They didn’t have time for relationships outside of the team. They did, however, have time for quick fucks at celebratory parties. 

“What happened?” Killua asked, quiet.

“He suffered a major concussion senior year of high school. He had already had a history of ‘em. Coach benched him. He didn’t pass the Yorknew athletes’ physical. He had his scholarship yanked out from under him, and then his aunt passed away. She, um… She was his guardian,” he explained, head down. He put the joint to his lips, and Killua felt too numb to do the same.

He stared at a patch on Kurapika’s coat. His throat was dry. He cleared it, swallowed hard, and frowned at his hands. “That’s… shit luck. I never would have guessed.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t exactly _become a HUNter_ if you’ve got a perfect family life. Privilege, or whatever,” Kurapika said with a dry smile. He laughed a little and pushed away from the table. After taking his seat again, he said, “But don’t worry about him. He’s got his shit together these days, and by that I mean he’s clean.”

Killua gave him a droll stare. “Gee, thanks for clarifying, because _that’s_ what I was worried about,” he said with as much sarcasm as he could muster. 

Kurapika grinned. He nodded towards Killua and said, “So now you know. What’re you gonna do about it?”

“Excuse me?”

“Are you gonna tell him you know?”

“_Me?_ Fuck no. That’s embarrassing as shit. As if _I’d_ admit to watching the video where he screamed my name when he came.”

Kurapika was in the middle of taking a hit when Killua slapped him upside the head with that statement. He coughed, sputtered, and thumped a fist to his chest. He coughed into his elbow, rasping, “He did _what?_ Holy _shit_. When was _this?_” 

Kurapika stared at Killua, eyes wide, as Killua admitted that the video was uploaded the previous Tuesday. Killua had checked the timestamp and everything—from his phone, of course, because his computer was otherwise indisposed at the other side of the apartment. 

“And since then he’s admitted to being straight?” Kurapika asked, looking shocked. Killua nodded. The guy slumped back, an elbow hooked against the back of the chair. He turned away with a sneer and hissed, “That son of a bitch.”

“You won’t… _tell him_, will you?” Killua asked, worried.

Kurapika paused to glance at Killua. He offered a reassuring smile and said, “I promise not to mention you. But I’ll be _damned_ if I let that spineless bastard go on thinking he’s straight. I’ll whip him into shape for you.”

_That sounds… oddly sexual_, Killua thought with a grimace. “Whatever,” he huffed. “And it isn’t _for_ me.”

“You’re right—it’s for me,” Kurapika said.

Killua glowered at him. Kurapika smiled. “Kidding. I’ve got my sights on bigger things—and better. But mostly bigger.”

“Ew,” Killua said. 

“I’ll ask him if he can deep throat and that’ll pretty much do it. Nothing more," Kurapika promised. 

Shortly after, he got to his feet, grabbed his bag, and was off. At the door, Killua made Kurapika promise once again _not_ to bring this conversation up to Gon—only the essentials. Kurapika saluted him and walked off down the hallway. Killua stared after him for a moment before hesitantly ducking back into his apartment and locking the door. He put his back to it, sighed, and wondered if this situation could get _any_ weirder. 

It definitely could, and it did—that very next day.

When Killua got a text from Gon insisted that they had to postpone their Blade Runner endeavors, he thought to himself, _I made a mistake, didn’t I?_ He just didn’t expect Kurapika to be so…

He wasn’t sure _what_ Kurapika was, but he wasn’t expecting _that_. He was just expecting a tidbit of advice—he wasn’t looking for Gon to get slapped upside the head for leading Killua on. Was it even possible to be “lead on” if one was fully aware of it? Killua decided that yes, yes it was entirely possible.

And, so, Killua spent the weekend alone with nothing but his midterm bullshit in a university library so he could borrow their computers. He was damn lucky for Google Drive because _all of his notes were on there_. As he wrote out timelines and maps across his notebook, he wondered if he could just keep this up all semester. He didn’t _need_ a computer for himself, did he?

It was one thing to get his parents to pay for his education, but it was another to depend on them for _technology_. He knew that whatever computer _they_ bought him would be monitored. His mother was more than a little overbearing, and his brother… protective. He’d just go with ‘protective’. His old computer had been something of a miracle because, at the time, he had the money in his own personal bank (a safe within a safe in the back of his room back home). He bought it without any of his family members knowing—not even _Alluka_ knew—and snuck off to college with it safely secured in his backpack. It slid right under the radar.

He went about his life, though. If… his life revolved around _jacking off_ the second he got home. Perhaps it took longer than a second to get ready, but _boy_, was he _running_. He threw his backpack haphazardly on the futon, threw off his jacket, threw the locks in place on the front door. And, then, he was shedding his clothes on the way to the bathroom, staggering and jumping out of his jeans all while simultaneously pulling up the Freakss HUNter page on his phone. 

Evidently, Gon’s live streams were a bi-monthly occurrence, and videos were uploaded once a week—every Tuesday. But, in this current break between content, Killua had an entire _year’s_ worth of porn to catch up on. He was already surpassing two dozen videos at this point. He really was losing his mind. He was already self-conscious about how frequently he visited the laundry machines in the basement of the complex, but _no one _visited them as frequently as _he_ did these days, so he had yet to see the same faces there. And, some day, he’d be caught shoving cum-stained boxer briefs into the wash and dousing them with an entire gallon of bleach, he was sure of it. 

To avoid _that_ issue, he took to the shower where he “worked through his differences” with his dick. He _certainly_ wasn’t about to take the blame for popping a boner in the middle of the library _just because_ he thought of Gon screwing him against the motorcycle. Gon, in all leather. 

Killua wanted to groan in annoyance about it, and groan he did—orgasmically, with pleasure, and with the sound of Gon’s video on and visible at the break in the shower curtain. 

Afterwards, Killua stepped out of the showers squeaky clean, and determined that if he was going to get a handle on this addiction of his, he’d need to set _boundaries_. From here on out, that shit was restricted to the _shower_ and _the shower only_. 

And then, as he quickly realized, there was nothing to do in his apartment without his laptop.

Killua Zoldyck was then discovered lying in starfish formation on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Slowly, he reached for his phone, only to hesitate. _No_. His hair was still wet from the shower, and he couldn’t do that shit here. He put his hand back and sighed. The sound of night traffic streamed in and out of his closed windows. 

_So this is my life now, I guess_.

* * *

Monday.

Greek History class was back, and so was Gon Freecss. 

Killua made sure to be there _on the dot_ mostly because he no longer had anything distracting at his apartment that didn’t involve porn on his phone. And, so, he was sitting there innocently with his arms crossed, legs stretched out in front of him, and a notebook on his seat desk. Nothing out of the ordinary.

And then Gon walked in. 

Gon stopped. Killua was far enough in the back of the room that the guy wouldn’t necessarily _know_ if Killua was watching him, but he was, and he saw the exact moment Gon ducked his head, took the stairs, and took a seat in the third row. _The third fucking row_.

“What the fuck,” Killua whispered under his breath, sitting up a little straighter. Maybe his eyes were just deceiving him? Maybe that _wasn’t_ Gon?

But he knew that hair—he _recognized_ that head of thick, spiky black hair—so he grabbed his shit, stood up, and jogged down the steps. He slipped into the row behind Gon and vaulted over the back of the seats.

Gon jumped at Killua’s abrupt entrance, like Killua was going to _stab him_ or something. Killua quirked an eyebrow up as Gon leapt to his feet and looked more or less trapped. Killua put his hand to the seat in front of him, blocking Gon’s exit to the stairs. 

“You ignoring me or something, Freecss?” Killua said. 

“I, uh—Change of scenery,” Gon said with a firm nod because _yes, that was the reason he meant to use_.

“Bullshit,” Killua said.

“I forgot my glasses!” he exclaimed, louder than necessary. “Yeah, so—I can’t see the board as well.”

“You don’t even _wear_ glasses. You wear them for fashion,” Killua said, and some chick behind them snorted a little. He glared at her and then glared at Gon, who squeaked and ducked down to grab his backpack. When it looked like he was about to make an escape, Killua got to his feet and wound up nose-to-nose with the guy.

They were the same height, but never were they so different. To Killua, it looked like Gon was two seconds away from pissing himself. Instead, he moved to the side, closer, and snuck sideways between Killua and the chairs. Killua followed after him and shared a look with the girl behind them that said, “_What the fuck?_” She shrugged.

Killua followed Gon up the steps back to where they normally sat, at which point Killua collapsed into his seat, shaking his head, and propped his elbow up on the armrest. Gon was stiff in his chair, on the edge of it even after pulling his notebook out. Killua watched him from the corner of his eye, mostly because he wouldn’t be surprised if Gon flew the coop and barrel-rolled down the lecture hall steps to escape whatever sort of existential crisis Kurapika put him in. In any case, Gon realized _something_, and it had _everything_ to do with Killua.

“Dude,” Killua said, and Gon glanced at him, eyes wide. Killua gestured vaguely with his hand and said, “You gonna tell me what’s up, or am I just gonna have to find out myself?”

Gon stared for a moment before turning away with a terse look on his face. Brow knitted, teeth dug into his bottom lip. Killua watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed and resisted the urge to poke it. 

“You remember…” Gon started, but the lecture presentation was up on the board. Everyone was seated. The professor started talking, but Killua was still staring at Gon. Gon glanced over—silently asking if Killua wanted him to continue. Killua leant closer and their shoulders touched over the armrests. “You remember when you asked… if that was a date?” he whispered.

“Yeah.”

“I think it was.”

“You _think?_” Killua snorted, voice hushed. He rolled his eyes and said, “It was totally a date.”

“How was I supposed to know?” Gon whispered. “I don’t even know if I’m straight or bi or gay or all of the above. It feels like all of the above. Doesn’t that bother you?”

“That you can’t make up your mind?”

“Yeah.”

“No. It just bothers me that you ghosted me over the weekend and then again today. What the fuck was that about?”

Gon put a hand to his forehead and said, quietly—almost too quiet for Killua to hear—“If I’m being honest, you really fucking turn me on. I’m afraid of popping a boner right now.”

_Jesus fucking Christ on a ten speed bike_, Killua thought, eyes glancing down at Gon’s crotch. Gon shoved him in the shoulder and hissed, “Don’t _look at it_!”

The professor was talking about _The Odyssey_, which Killua had spent all weekend reading because he had nothing better to do than deplete his supply of lubricant. 

“I’ve _never_ felt… attracted to guys before, so it’s weird to me,” Gon confessed. “I don’t want to… make you uncomfortable. Or think that I’m just ‘curious’. And maybe I am just curious—”

“I don’t think that, and I’m not,” he said.

“Are you attracted to me?”

“I watch your fucking porn.”

Killua closed his eyes. Did he actually just say that? When he opened his eyes, he was looking at Gon, who was staring at him, once again, like a deer caught in headlights and Killua was going _full throttle _because he couldn’t _shut up_. “I’ve _been_ watching it for, like, a week and a half. I didn’t _know_ before then.”

“You…” Gon started, voice breaking.

“I’m not —I’m not a _fan_. I’m just _horny_,” Killua said all while his brain screamed, _SHUT UP, YOU IDIOT_.

“I don’t—I’m not—” he started, and Killua thought to himself, _Oh fuck, I broke him_. Gon rubbed a hand over his forehead as the professor went on about the bullshit crew on Odysseus’ ship. “I’m not ready for a relationship.” 

“Okay.”

“But I _do_ want to fuck you,” Gon said, barely audible. 

Killua grew hot all over. He swallowed hard and nodded once, twice, and three times for good measure. He shifted in his seat because _shit_, he was already straining to keep himself under control. He could feel Gon’s eyes on him from where the guy had his elbow leant against the armrest, his voice close enough for Killua to feel against his cheek.

“Let’s get out of here,” Gon said. 

Killua was nodding before he could stop and think. They had a midterm coming up—but he had already read the entire _Odyssey_, so it didn’t matter whether or not he stuck around for this lecture. He packed his notebook away, hastily, and folded the desk up. Gon followed his lead down the steps as they all but jogged to the exit, eyes on the ground so they wouldn’t have to make eye contact with the professor as they ditched.

The instant they were through the door, Killua was heading for the exit. A tug on his hand sent him staggering back and after Gon, who grinned at him and started down the hall where the restrooms were. Killua’s insides turned to absolute Jello as he shivered at the realization that Gon really _was_ holding him by the hand. That Gon really_ did_ want to screw him as much as Killua wanted to be screwed _by_ him. 

Gon’s hand was soft and dry in Killua’s sweaty-ass palm as he pushed his back into the restroom door and swept inside, pulling Killua with him. Gon shushed him, like Killua was even _talking_, and went down the line of toilet stalls, checking underneath them, before coming back to the hot, disastrous mess that was Killua Zoldyck to say, “You’re so fucking sexy. I wanted to blow you in that sushi restaurant so badly—”

“I wouldn’t have stopped you,” Killua said. “Since apparently you make a living off of deep throating dildos. The only thing you’d be choking on would be your goddamn California roll when I’d tell you to suck me off. I can’t believe you eat California rolls—that’s so basic of you—”

Gon laughed, his finger shocked on the belt loops of Killua’s jeans. “Shut up! Get in the stall, Zoldyck, or I swear to God—”

“You’ll what?” Killua teased. He backed into the stall with Gon’s sneakers on either side of his. Gon reached back and shut the door, switching the lock in place as Killua said, “You’ll _scream_ my name when you cum—again?”

Gon hesitated, eyes wide. “You saw that?” he breathed.

“You don’t exactly have a _plethora_ of gay content to be had,” Killua said with a roll of his eyes. “So yeah, I clicked it.”

Gon ran a hand over his face and moaned out a curse that had Killua’s toes curling. He dropped his backpack to the floor and all but sank against the wall. His legs were shaky underneath him as he stood with Gon leaning in front of him. Gon put his hand to the wall next to Killua’s head, tilted his head, and offered a shy smile. “Yeah… I guess I didn’t expect you to see that…”

“What made you change your mind about being straight,” Killua asked, quietly, a sly grin on his lips. 

“You, mostly,” Gon said. Killua raised an eyebrow. Gon rolled his eyes. “And… Kurapika knows about my whole _job_. He had a chat with me about my recent… _fetish_.”

“Ah,” Killua laughed. “_Fetish_.”

“Stop,” Gon whined, and Killua laughed harder. “_Stop_, I’m serious. Don’t laugh at me about this. I’m a confused, growing boy.”

“Really?”

“Yes, you’ll scare me away. I’m actually quite fainthearted.”

“Says the guy who works with a dominatrix.”

Gon gasped, leant away, only to push back in and put a finger to Killua’s chest, saying, “You take that back. Retz is a _gem_.”

Killua’s smile darkened. With a low, deadly laugh, he said, “Careful—you’ll make me jealous.”

Gon blinked at him, expression flatlining. Those cheeky smile lines were gone. “Wait. Are you a jealous person?” he asked, and Killua realized his mistake. 

He shook his head, because it was true. He watched enough of Gon’s collaborated videos to know that the thought of Gon having sex with other people didn’t bother him in the slightest. In fact, he _enjoyed_ watching it because it all featured _Gon_. He’d only have an issue with it if _Gon_ had an issue with it. If _Gon_ was uncomfortable, but from what Killua could gauge, the shit Gon got himself into was entirely consensual. The guy’s entire HUNter channel was founded on the basis that exploration should be _fun_.

Killua’s eyes widened and said, “No. Fuck no. I don’t care who you screw. You said it yourself—you’re not ready for a relationship.”

Gon seemed to have forgotten that. “Oh. Right, yeah. You’re right. And you’re… okay with that?”

“Yeah,” Killua said. “I wouldn’t be standing here if I wasn’t.”

He was done talking. He reached up and pulled Gon forward with his fingers in his hair. Gon’s hair _was_ just as soft as Killua imagined it—the guy didn’t use an ounce of product to have it stand on end like that, and _God_, did it feel _good_. 

Gon pushed forward, encouraged by Killua’s tug. Their lips crushed together not unlike Killua’s keyboard shattering over his knee. It wasn’t, by any means, _good_.

“Ow, fuck,” Killua cursed, teeth rattling in his skull.

Gon grimaced, his breath on Killua’s lips as he said, “Oh, sorry—I’m not—I haven’t really kissed mouths before.”

“What _have_ you been kissing, asphalt?” Killua said, touching his fingers to his lips. He tasted iron from where his tooth had effectively lacerated the inside of his lip. “_God—_”

“I said I was sorry,” Gon whined, this time pressing his lips to the corner of Killua’s mouth. It took him off guard, and by the time Gon’s lips touched his jaw, the soft skin of his neck, the force lifted to a feathery lightness that sent tremors up Killua’s spine.

“We’ll… work on it,” Killua said, breathless. 

“I’ll make it up to you,” he said, his lips to Killua’s collarbone. He laid a soft kiss there as he ducked down, traveling lower, pulling at Killua’s shirt until it was bunched up in his fist and gave him easy access to Killua’s abdomen. The air was chilled against his skin until Gon’s hot lips carried wetly across it, laving it with his tongue. Killua sucked in a deep breath, fingers shaking. He brought them to Gon’s hair and sunk his fingers in as he pushed his head back against the wall and let Gon do what Gon did best.

The instant he felt the pressure of Gon’s fingers through the fabric of his jeans, Killua was a goner. He was already hard in his jeans, and as Gon undid the fly, he passed an inquiring look up to Killua. All of the words in Killua’s mental dictionary were thrown out a moving car window, scattered to the wind a dozen miles down the road from where Gon’s knees were on the bathroom tiles. He nodded, his breath caught in his throat as his jeans shifted, loosened, and were pulled down from his waistband. 

He gasped out a curse when Gon hooked his fingers on his waistband. Gon’s hands were _hot_ against his already-feverish skin, and the sensitive, pale flesh of his pelvis amplified just how desperate Killua was. 

“You good?” Gon asked.

Killua put the back of his hand to his mouth and said, “Yeah, fine.”

“You’ll have to tell me what to do—I’ve never done this,” Gon said. The audio on Killua’s computer could never do _that_ justice. His voice was pitched lower, hushed, but still echoed against the tiles in the quiet, men’s restroom.

“Okay,” Killua said, and reached down to tug his boxers down. 

The air touched his hardened cock before he could think to regret his decision. Gon didn’t move, even as it drooped in front of him and Killua had to remind himself that Gon had only ever seen his own dick, and never this close up—unless he was doing _serious_ gymnastics in his free time.

“Aye, _Dios mío…_” Gon whispered just before gripping Killua by the hips and laying a wet kiss just above Killua’s dick. He pushed soft, opened-mouth kisses down Killua’s length without hesitation. Killua’s skin tingled all the way up his flushed neck seconds before Gon took the tip of his cock in his mouth and sucked him down. 

Killua had _never_ seen anyone go _that hard_ sucking dick, and he would have blamed it on Gon’s inexperience if he didn’t already know the guy could deep throat.

Gon’s hands on his hips kept him up, otherwise Killua would have been flat on the ground, dead as a doornail. Instead, he hung on by the weight of Gon’s lips pushing, pulling, and his fingers gripped tight to the fair skin on Killua’s exposed hips. He tugged at Gon’s hair, his head thrown back, breathing hard and sighing out curses until he came so close to combusting that he choked out, voice hoarse, “I’m gonna cum—”

And Gon didn’t move beyond taking another stroke back and laving his tongue along the underside of Killua’s dick. Saliva and cum dripped from his chin as he took Killua down his throat once more before Killua forced him off with a sharp tug by the hair.

Neither of them were prepared for Gon to get a face-full of semen. 

Killua let out a choked cuss as he came, practically tearing out Gon’s hair as he collapsed back against the wall and shivered when the cold tiles touched his bare ass. 

Gon blinked his eyes open, a white pearl of semen on his eyelashes. After a moment of hesitation, he reached over and tore a strip of toilet paper from the roll and started to wipe off his face. Killua panted, slumping further until he was on his knees in front of Gon. When he could speak again, he said, “_Don’t_ pretend you can swallow the first time, alright?”

“I’m not _pretending_,” Gon said, and it made Killua stop and stutter at the absurdly attractive way Gon’s voice dipped, still hushed from the fact that they were in a public restroom. “I wanted to try—”

He didn’t finish. He met Killua’s eyes, and Killua swallowed hard at the sheen of sweat on Gon’s skin, at his hair all blown out of proportions by Killua’s hand fisted in it mere seconds ago. “There isn’t a camera here, you know,” Killua said. “You don’t have to… I don’t know. Act like a porn star right now.”

“I’m not _acting_. I never act,” Gon said, frowning so deeply his forehead wrinkled. 

Killua sighed. “You know what I mean,” he said, and became, once again, fully aware of how indecent he was at that moment. He half-stood and pulled his jeans and boxers up with him. He grabbed some toilet paper, wiped off Gon’s saliva from his crotch, and tossed it in the toilet along with Gon’s cum-stained tissues. He flushed them as he hiked his jeans over his hips and the restroom door opened. 

The two of them froze.

The toilet was still swirling when they heard someone’s zipper come undone, and the next thing they knew, the guy was pissing into one of the urinals. Gon put a hand to his chin and stared at Killua, who stared at him from over his shoulder before turning around and grabbing his backpack. 

Gon gestured to the door. _Let’s go out there_.

Killua shook his head. _I’d rather die via waterboarding_.

Gon rose his eyebrows and pretended to scream, hands cupped beside his mouth. _If you don’t stop me, I’ll scream bloody murder_.

Killua seethed, putting a finger to his lips. He then made a crude show of pretending to strangle Gon when the guy outside of their stall zipped up his jeans and went to wash his hands. At least, Killua hoped so. When the faucet started, he breathed a sigh of relief.

And then Gon was leaving the stall.

And there Killua was, standing in the open stall door staring in horror at the guy casually washing his hands in front of the mirror. The guy glanced up to look at Gon, and when Gon said, “Hey,” the guy’s eyes went straight back to where Killua was standing, frozen in shock. The guy stared at him in the mirror, and then Gon, who went straight up next to him in the row of ten or so sinks and started washing his hands. 

“What the fuck?” the guy said, laughing as he flicked water off his hands and walked away. He looked over his shoulder as he grabbed a sheet of paper towel and hurried off, glancing at Killua as he opened the door, shook his head, and left the bathroom.

“You’re goddamn shameless, aren’t you?” Killua said, storming out of the stall. He marched straight up to Gon, who was grinning to himself as he rinsed soap bubbles off his hands. That smile made him look like a young, dashing Heath Ledger again—if Heath Ledger was Latino, maybe—and he _really_ needed to stop smiling like that if he ever hoped to make it out of the bathroom alive. Killua would devour him, if given the chance.

Gon flicked water off of his hands and said, “I’m whatever you want me to be.” He strode ahead towards the door, crumpling a paper towel between his hands as he said, “Come on, let’s go. She might talk about the midterm at the end of lecture.”

Killua stared in shock before jolting forward, hurrying to catch the closing door. When he burst out, Gon was already halfway back to the lecture hall. It was so natural, seeing Gon in the hallway, in lecture, that Killua had to stop and wonder if Gon really _was_ just on his knees sucking his dick just over five minutes ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a dream last night that I was at a lake with my family and there was this great big PRECIPICE of a cliff where people would jump off and into the water, and for some reason there was this lil train (you know, the ones you see at zoos) that circled the entire circumference of the lake so I'm like "Hell yeah, Imma hop on that" so picture me, on this dinky lil train, that goes past this precipice and then the train started tipping and tipping and falling and all twenty passengers just plunged off this CLIFF and I'm like "'ight time for my days in diving to COME IN HANDY 👊😩". The water's crystal clear. You can see everything under there mostly because I'm wearing WATER PROOF CONTACTS or whatever, idk, and I see this guy just sink and sink and sink and then he's FACE FIRST ON THE BOTTOM OF THE LAKE and you see the plume of sand you know, when something hits the bottom of a lake, and I resurface and I'm like "guys... this guy just sank like a rock imma go grab him" and so I DIVE DOWN. I take him by BOTH ANKLES and I HURL HIM like a discus and when he resurfaces he's like "i'm fine, but i need the cops to arrest me" and my dream ended with him being handcuffed and taken away. Anyway I just feel like that guy had strong Leorio vibes I dunno about you.
> 
> Also this is all I have written so if by some miracle I crank out 5k tonight and tomorrow morning...


	5. Job Offer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killua's nonexistent filter gets him into trouble.

Art History class was nearly just as unbearable as being trapped in Killua’s apartment without a computer, only _worse_. He wasn’t sure what it was about colonial American art that made his brain feel like it weighed approximately ten thousand pounds, but _damn_, it hard to keep it up. His head lolled on his shoulders and he nearly face planted if it weren’t for Zushi nudging him in the arm.

“Dude, stay with it. We’ve got fifteen more minutes,” Zushi whispered.

“I don’t think I can make it,” Killua sighed, slumping even further into his seat. He rubbed a hand over his eyes and down the side of his face.

He thought that telling Gon would lift the weight from his shoulders, but now it was heavier. It felt _different_ though—it was no longer the burden it was before, a potential jeopardization of his friendship with Gon—and he had Kurapika to thank for it. 

He could barely focus his eyes until the exact moment the professor reached the end of the presentation and his peers began to unzip their backpacks. He jolted awake, eyes bleary from spending half of the night on Gon’s Twitter feed. Sure, he had checked it out before, but most of his phone power was designated for the HUNter app these days. Twitter had never been so relevant, though, because now? Now his feed was filled with photos of _Gon_. Killua had to assume that Gon had hired some poor photography student on campus because _damn_, they were high quality. Even his selfies from his phone camera were spot on, but those photoshoots?

The bane of Killua’s existence.

He hated them so spectacularly that he kept one as his home screen photo.

Zushi packed up his bag and rose to his feet with a sigh. When Killua said nothing, he sighed again, this time with more gusto. 

“_What?_” Killua said with a laugh, pushing himself upright. 

Zushi slumped and rolled his head back with a groan. “It’s just that—Retz isn’t our model anymore, and I’m kinda sad about it,” he confessed. 

“Please tell me you aren’t still watching her videos,” Killua said, dreadful at the prospect of it. Retz was a different matter entirely, though he did feel hypocritical for watching half of Gon’s videos over the past week and a half. Retz was a _professional_, though—she was _hired_ to model for their class, and there were boundaries there that Killua wouldn’t cross even if he _was_ straight. 

Zushi sighed all over again and said, “_No,_ I haven’t _watched them_. I just… follow her on Twitter and Instagram now. That’s _all_.”

“Jesus _Christ_, Zushi,” Killua said with a roll of his eyes. He started for the stairs and Zushi chased after him. 

Zushi started singing a low-key, depressing tune from the fifties that had Killua rolling his eyes. He swayed, sweeping from side to side as he dropped his voice an entire octave. Killua jogged away, laughing, but Zushi persisted: “_Won’t you kiss me once… baby…? Just a kiss good-night… maybe?_”

The students still lingering in the entryway giggled as Killua half-sang, half-belted out, “_You and I will fall in love_—!” with a hand on his heart, the other extended to Zushi as he backed into the lecture hall door and pushed out. 

Zushi followed after him, an arm around his neck as he sang, “_PUT YOUR HEAD ON MY—_”

Killua turned around and instantly cursed, slapping a hand over Zushi’s eyes. The girls behind them were giggling as Killua forced Zushi to a full stop at the sight of _Gon Freecss_ in the arts building, standing across the atrium from them. He was far enough away for Killua to redirect Zushi and push him by the shoulders towards the door.

Gon pushed off of the wall and started after them as Killua said, “I… just remembered something! I need to… work on that Greek History project I absolutely told you about.”

“Really? Is it with that hot lecture hall guy?” Zushi asked as Killua shoved him through the building doors and towards the streets. 

Killua blushed all shades of read. “No! That—! Forget I ever said anything about that!” he cried, horrified. Gon was too far away to hear it—he hoped. 

“Oh, well, I’ll see you later!” Zushi said, spinning around with a wave, a salute, and he was off down the sidewalk.

A moment later, the girls from the lecture hall came filing out of the building doors, startling Killua as he stood in the middle of the sidewalk path. A voice sounded in his ear, saying, “Hot Lecture Hall Guy?”

Killua bristled in horror. He spun around and found Gon standing there, hands in his pockets, attracting attention from the kids in Killua’s Art History lecture. He couldn’t seem to blush enough, and by now, his entire face was the color of a traffic light. “Sh-Shut up! You’re so embarrassing,” Killua said, eyes wide. 

Gon grinned and those smile lines shot an arrow straight through Killua’s heart. The way Gon’s eyes crinkled at the corners, though—_that_ would certainly be the death of him. 

He sidled up beside Killua and nodded off in Zushi’s direction. Zushi was already across the road and half-jogging around the corner of the building, away from where Killua’s heart was going through aggressive palpitations. “Who’s that guy?” Gon asked.

Killua rubbed a hand over his heated face and said, “_Zushi_. I’ve told you about him.”

“Ah, your bi friend.”

“_That’s_ what you remember about him?” 

“It didn’t used to be,” Gon confessed, rubbing a hand over his chin. He passed a hand through his hair and said, “I remember that story you told me about him—about how you guys were partners in color class or something.”

“Yeah, we basically survived the war zone together. We’re, like, two military veterans of The Great Wing War,” Killua said. Professor Wing was in charge of all color classes and, therefore, the bane of his and Zushi’s existence freshmen year.

“Did you two ever date?”

Killua laughed. “No, but I made out with him once. Mostly by accident. I was really drunk back then…” He stopped drinking after that freshmen year endeavor. It was… a rough semester, to say the least. 

“Really? And you’re still friends with him?” 

Killua rose an eyebrow, steps pausing at the corner of the street. “Why are you so interested in Zushi?”

Gon laughed and looked away, saying, “I am _not_ interested in Zushi, alright? I’m just—asking questions. I want to know these things if we’re gonna be…”

“What, fuck buddies?” Killua said. 

Gon clamped his mouth shut. He smiled awkwardly at a group of girls walking by who most certainly heard Killua. Killua rolled his eyes and kept walking, away from this weird-ass conversation. Gon chased after him, though, and followed up with, “We haven’t even _had sex_. I wouldn’t call us that. It sounds… crude.”

“I told you I don’t care who you screw. Give me the same respect and we won’t have any issues,” Killua said. _Not that I’m… screwing anyone presently_, he thought with a grimace. They never really had a serious chat about what This was. What Gon picking him up at class _was_. What getting sushi together _was_. What the bathroom stall situation _was_.

Killua shook his head, but only once, because if he did it any more than that, the slush that was his brain would go seeping out of his ears. He felt a headache coming on as Gon said, “But I don’t want you to screw anyone else.”

“G-Gon!”

“What? It’s true!”

“You’re being ridiculous right now,” Killua huffed. 

Killua wasn’t sure _why_ he was so mad. Iit wasn’t like Gon was foiling his plans for screwing half of New York City. That was never the intention. It was simply unfair of Gon to expect Killua to sit pretty while Gon went and fucked people on camera. 

He wanted to say all of that, but instead, it came out as this: “If you’re able to fuck people on camera, I should be, too.”

_Fuck_, he thought. That came out so wrong, but it was too late, because Gon was already stopping in his tracks and pulling Killua to a halt. They stepped out of the way of passing strangers as Gon leant closer, eyes wide, and hand gripping Killua by the shoulder.

“Wait—Are you serious? Why would you…?”

“I wasn’t serious,” Killua sighed, a hand over his face. “I’m just _angry_ that you think it’s okay for you to fuck other people—”

“That’s my _job—_”

“I know that! And I’m fine with it, but what I’m saying is that—if it was _my_ job instead, would you still be acting like a jealous asshole?”

Gon took a moment to consider this. His eyes flitted between Killua’s for a moment before he ducked his head, leant back, and swallowed hard. “Yeah, you’re right,” he said, clearing his throat. “That was selfish of me.”

“Yeah, it was,” Killua said. He had to admit it: he was shocked. He supposed it was _normal_, as normal could get these days, for Gon to still have a monogamous mindset.

“And,” Gon started, and Killua furrowed his brow. _Shit, there’s more_. Gon rolled his eyes away and looked anywhere but Killua as he scratched his head and said, “_If_ you _do_ plan on streaming, just ask me, okay? I’d give you all of the donations from streams and if it’s a video, I’d give you half of the profits. That’s how I work with all my collaborators—mostly because I’m too mathematically incompetent to bother with complicated percentages.”

Heat swelled everywhere it shouldn’t. Killua was certain that if he spoke now, his voice would crack, so he just nodded. Gon’s offer was a sure-fire way of getting fucked in the ass, that was certain, _and_ getting _paid _for it. In a backwards sort of way, Gon would be paying Killua back for the laptop that shattered over his now-yellow knee. 

He wasn’t entirely sure why he felt so _hot_ at the thought of having _physical evidence_ of Gon having sex with him. He blamed it on the combination of Killua’s insanity and his nearly-two week endeavor through Gon’s HUNter page. Video footage of Gon’s dick had become a fetish of his he couldn’t shake.

Killua swallowed hard and rasped, “I… can’t tell if you’re serious.”

“I am serious,” Gon said, putting a hand to the bus stop post behind Killua, where dozens of college students before had pasted stickers that were fading, rubbing off from the weather. “I have a contract detailing everything if you want to take a look at it? We’d discuss everything beforehand, obviously, but it helps to have it all written on paper. And, also, having sex on camera _can_ come back to bite you in the ass if you aren’t careful, so the contract prevents you from, like… filing a court case against me if you decide you—”

Killua grimaced and said, “I wouldn’t… Lawsuits aren’t my thing.”

Gon gestured as if to say, _voila_. “See? Then the contract wouldn’t be an issue for you. No problem signing it if you’re already on board. Are you? On board, I mean.”

Killua thought about his siblings on HUNter. One of them _definitely_ was, but Milluki was into lesbian and straight porn—he knew this just based off of Milluki’s sex doll fetish, all of which involved women. He shuddered a little and determined that no, his siblings wouldn’t find him on HUNter if he went along with Gon’s contract. 

“Let me… think about it,” he said. 

“That isn’t a no?”

“It isn’t a no, but it isn’t a yes, either,” Killua said, uneasily. “I’m just… not comfortable having my face on screen. I’m in _art school_. Having social media is, like, a standard at this point.”

Gon hummed thoughtfully. He put his free hand to his chin and thought for a moment before saying, “Okay. I’ll come up with something.”

“I swear to God if you put a mask on me—”

“It won’t be a mask, I promise,” Gon reassured him, waving a hand. “Just leave it to me. And seriously—take your time. I won’t be disappointed if you say no, so don’t just agree to it because you feel pressured, okay? And if you’re doing it for a laptop… let me know how much you need and I can estimate how many videos or streams it would take if that helps you decide.”

Killua nodded robotically. It felt surreal, like he was watching himself agree to be a camboy on Gon’s channel from fifty feet in the air screaming, “_YOU FUCKING IDIOT!_” Instead, he squeaked out, “O-Okay. Yeah, I’ll let you know.”

* * *

“Starbucks rejected me, but Gon said he’d give me all stream donations if I let him fuck me on camera, so there’s that,” Killua said over boba tea with Kurapika that very next day. 

Kurapika started choking on a boba instantly. 

Killua watched, impassively, as he sipped at his coconut tea and waited for Kurapika to get his shit together. The guy thumped a fist on his chest and rasped out, “Wh-_What?_ He said _what?_”

Killua shrugged. “I said what I said.”

“I know, and I’m over here trying to—trying to make _sense_ of it,” Kurapika said, looking horrified. He put a hand on the table between them and said, “You didn’t say yes, did you?”

“I didn’t say _no_,” Killua huffed, frowning. “Why shouldn’t I say yes? I mean, I need the money. I’m not gonna spend the rest of the semester in the fucking library using Windows 7.”

“There are other places that… might hire you. You don’t have to put all your eggs into one basket, so to speak. There’s more than just Starbucks and Gon’s dick,” Kurapika said.

Killua raised his cup to cheer and said, “Not all would agree, but okay.”

Kurapika rolled his eyes and sighed out the window. It was getting colder by the day, and the frost wouldn’t let up. A light, dusted snow flurry was descending, and Killua blamed it on the shit ecosystem for dumping snow on them mid-October. Kurapika turned back and said, “So I’m guessing you know how much he makes, then?”

“Yeah, it sounds like I can expect to pay off the laptop in at _least_ one long stream or three smaller streams, or alternatively two viral videos over a longer period of time. I’m thinking the viral part isn’t as… stable an option. He’d make it a perk video, so only top-tier subscribers can access it,” Killua explained. He didn’t like the idea of stretching out his pay over the course of three months for the three streams, so he was tempted to agree to the one _long_ stream. 

The only problem with the stream, though, meant that they couldn’t be as finicky about the camera work. The chances of seeing Killua _on stream_ were far higher than a fully edited video. HUNter’s system for creators allowed them to restrict screenshots and screen recordings, but it obviously wouldn’t stop people from taking pictures of their computer screens with their phones, or recording it that way, either. 

Gon had yet to come up with a solution.

“The guy’s got a major following though,” Kurapika said. 

“Yeah, but not all _subscribers_ watch the streams. We can’t expect all three, four thousand viewers to donate,” Killua explained. 

“Do you even have the endurance for a long stream?” he asked, warily.

“Yeah? I think so?” he said. If he was being honest with himself, sex was… a bit daunting. Freshmen and sophomore year, he had exhausted the partners. It generally took two or three rounds for Killua to get the high he was looking for anyway, but… that wasn’t always a great thing. 

It was one of the reasons his partners tended to ghost him.

He put a hand to his face and sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe the video’s a better option. And then… I’ll just suck it up and stick around the library to do my homework,” he said.

Kurapika didn’t seem that convinced. He went on sipping his fruit tea as light, delicate snowflakes drifted between buildings out beyond the store windows. Killua shifted in his seat so he could cross his ankle over his knee, clear his throat, and determine that he really, _really_ wanted this. As much as he feared having his face plastered all over the internet with a porn star, the sexual satisfaction he was bound to get would _nearly_ make it worth it. _Nearly_. 

Sitting there in that boba shop, Killua couldn’t stop picturing Gon’s dick. That had to be at least seven inches—at _least_.

Killua didn’t really expect Gon to get back to him that week with a solution, so when Killua and Kurapika left the shop and headed for his apartment, they were shocked by the sight of Gon out in the snow on his goddamn motorcycle. The bike was propped up, and Gon was leaning against it shielding his phone from the snow as he tapped away at it. When he caught sight of Killua and Kurapika together, he let out a thrilled gasp and vaulted onto the curb. 

Killua startled, his anxiety spiking from the sheer speed Gon took in their direction. When Gon didn’t slip or skid, he relaxed—only slightly.

“G-Gon! What’re you doing here?” Killua stammered, eyes wide. 

“I wanted to see you!” Gon said. 

Before Gon could even throw his outstretched arms around Killua, Kurapika stole Killua’s portfolio tube and bopped Gon upside the head with it. Gon yelped like a wounded dog and rubbed at his forehead as Kurapika jabbed the tube at Gon’s chest and said, “You fucking idiot. I won’t let you defile Killua’s name.”

“Kurapika!” Killua cried, horrified. He turned all shades of red as Gon slowly but surely pieced this all together.

“Killua told you?” Gon said, eyes wide. 

Kurapika put the tube to Gon’s chest and pushed him back, back, _all_ the way back to his motorcycle. All the while, he said, “And you think just because you _fessed up_ to liking Killua that I’ll just roll over? You have to be more aware of your actions, and _boy_, does this say a whole lot about your integrity—”

“It’s up to me whether or not it even happens!” Killua said, arms up in defense so that when Kurapika whipped around, he didn’t get a portfolio tube to the face. He glanced warily down the street and said, “Maybe we should talk about this _inside?_”

Kurapika let Gon go. Gon rubbed a hand over his chest where his leather jacket was unzipped, eyeing Kurapika warily as he stepped past his friend. Kurapika faked him out and Gon all but ran to the stairs to catch up with Killua. 

Killua stuck the key in the door and sighed a little. What the Hell was he doing with his life, exactly? Thiswas all beyond his level of expertise as a hormonal twenty year old but alas, there they were, marching up the stairs to Killua’s apartment and leaving their snowy shoes in the entryway. The instant they were inside, Kurapika went to the bathroom and locked the door behind him. Shortly after, they could hear him pissing. 

Gon was at Killua’s side in an instant. “Okay, so I think I’ve come up with something,” he said, swinging his backpack off of his shoulders. He dug around in it before producing what appeared to be a _strap _with _velcro_ and _everything_. 

Killua blinked, startled, and said, “O… kay?”

Gon rolled his eyes and pulled out what looked like a _GoPro_. “I’m able to connect this wirelessly to my computer.”

“Have you _always_ just had a GoPro lying around?”

“No, I bought it on the way here,” he said, studying the strap and GoPro in his hands. He looked up with a bright smile and Killua almost didn’t want to tell him about how much of an idiot he was. _Almost_. “So what do you think? You’d wear it on your head.”

Killua frowned, an eyebrow quirked, as he said, “You really think you’ll be turned on by me wearing a goddamn excavator headlamp?”

The toilet flushed across the apartment.

Gon grinned as he looked Killua up and down and said, “It isn’t a problem for me. I’ll be turned on by anything you do, if I’m being honest.” 

Killua couldn’t breathe. He took the GoPro from Gon, and Gon’s grin widened back into that dazzling smile that was all cheeks and smile lines. He cleared his throat, looking down at the strap Gon passed him. After a moment, he said, “I-I’ll think about it.”

“How did this tip the scales? Just curious.”

“They’re definitely in your favor now,” Killua said, unable to stop his smile with his lips pursed. He looked up, trying _hard_ not to show it, but he was giddy at the idea Gon just dropped in his hands. 

The bathroom door opened and, a moment later, Kurapika came out carrying a dildo. “I found this in a box in your cupboard—”

Killua was too horrified to scream, much less speak. He scrambled past Gon, who let out a startled laugh and said, “Holy shit—You can’t just go through peoples’ cupboards.” 

Kurapika half-heartedly tried to hold it out of Killua’s range, but he grabbed it by the shaft and wished he could slap Kurapika with it. His ears felt like they’d fall off from the sheer level of _heat _turning them beet red. He glowered at Kurapika, who snickered and said, “That’s gotta be six, huh? What’re you, Gon?”

“Seven and a half,” Gon said.

Killua paused in the bathroom doorway. _Wow, my estimate was pretty close_, he thought as he glanced over his shoulder at where Gon went on, saying, “If you’re trying to scare him away, my dick is a healthy size, all right? Retz said it’s a good size!”

“She’s probably slept with bigger, dude! You can’t trust her. Maybe she was just trying to make you feel better.”

“Wait, are we arguing for or against larger sizes—”

“_For_.”

“I’d argue _against—_” Gon said.

Kurapika threw his hands up and screamed, “I can never win with you! You’re so fucking weird!”

“It’s not that weird! There’s no point in going overboard and getting uncomfortable or butt hurt about it.”

Killua shoved the toy in the _far_ back corner of his bathroom closet _where it used to be_. He couldn’t believe Kurapika went through the trouble to dig it out, but he could see that the guy had no problem tossing aside Killua’s towels to get there. He folded them up and stuffed them in the closet, slowly but surely covering up access to it until he closed the door and realized that Gon had stepped over to the bathroom, leant in, and was waiting to get Killua’s attention.

Killua’s face was still on fire, and it only worsened when Gon smiled at him like that and said, “Sorry about Kurapika, but he wants to make sure you’re comfortable with my dick.”

“Inquiring minds want to know!” Kurapika shouted from the living room futon. He heard the telltale sound of a lighter striking a flame. 

“I-I don’t care,” Killua said. Gon rose an eyebrow. “I mean—I’m fine with it. It’s… good, I guess.”

“Really?” Gon said, and Killua nodded. His throat was closing up. “You’re sure?” Killua nodded again. 

Gon whipped back around to the living room and flipped Kurapika off. “Suck it! He’s fine with it.”

Kurapika flug a pillow in Gon’s direction. Gon kicked it onto Killua’s bed and punched both fists in the air.Meanwhile, Killua hesitated at the edge of the living room, a hand to his face, and said, “Can we stop comparing sizes, please? Also, hand that over.”

He snapped his fingers at Kurapika, who offered the joint from which Killua took two, dense puffs before handing it back. He collapsed back onto the futon next to Kurapika, the GoPro and head strap still in hand. Together, they watched as Gon knelt on the carpet in front of Killua and clasped his hands to Killua’s spread-out knees. Gon was the only entertainment in the apartment, anyway, and Killua half-regretted letting them up to his place, especially considering the bullshit Kurapika pulled the minute he set foot over the threshold. And, now, he was juggling a potent conglomeration of frustration, sexual tension, and exhaustion that stemmed from the curveball that was Gon Freecss.

Gon laid an experimental kiss on Killua’s knee. Killua pushed his hand to Gon’s hair, the heel of his palm against Gon’s forehead. Meanwhile, Kurapika took a picture with his phone and said, “I’m sending this to Retz and telling her you have a new dom.”

“Sounds good to me,” Gon said, lifting his eyes to meet Killua’s from around his wrist, Gon’s chin on his knee. 

Killua swallowed hard and gave him a rough shove. Gon fell back against the carpet as Killua muttered, “You’re both _ridiculous_.” It was true, but he couldn’t look away.


	6. Keep Your Eyes On Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Wild Killua enters a cryptid's (Gon's) apartment for the first time. What could go wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *In the words of a 1930s, static radio host* This chapter is brought to you by an ace gal without an editing bone in her body.
> 
> [I listened to this song and a bunch of 1930-50s tunes throughout the course of writing this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZYRD5Nie8wc&list=LLTCZyhyrxcVtAAq-g63RwQg&index=14)

Immediately after Greek History class that Friday, Gon walked Killua to the parking garage where Killua let himself be, once again, overwhelmed by how amazing Gon’s Honda Shadow was. It was everything out of his wet dreams about Gon fucking him over the leather seat. Even though the temperature said it was freezing outside, Killua was hot and fanning himself at the sight of it. 

This time around, Killua didn’t hesitate. He mounted the bike behind Gon and put his arms around Gon’s narrow torso. The guy was all lean, taunt muscle and Killua wanted to feel every bit of it flush against his front. His breath came out in clouds of cool, crystalized air as Gon put the stand up and rolled out of the parking spot and cruised around the corner to the exit. 

Killua was positively _overwhelmed_ in the best way possible. It was happening. He’d get to see the bedroom in which all of Gon’s videos took place. He had never _seriously_ been to the guy’s apartment before. The closest he ever got was when Kurapika accompanied him several weeks ago—long before Killua ever discovered Gon’s occupation. Kurapika had snuck them into the building and knocked on Gon’s door. They had received a panicked, “_Just a minute!_” which turned into six entire minutes before Gon opened his apartment door for them. Clearly, now Killua knew why—on the videos, Gon had a clothing rack in the back of the room filled with lingerie on top of a plethora of toys that were sent to him by companies on display. His several HUNter plaques were, of course, taken down from the walls during those brief two minutes Killua spent in the foyer waiting for Kurapika to whip Gon into shape and get him out of the door. 

So yeah, Killua was really only acquainted with the foyer, but _damn_, was it nice. The building as a legitimate _security_ system and a front desk that knew Kurapika’s face. Killua never would have made it past the front desk on his own. 

Gon’s apartment complex wasn’t _brand new_, by any means, but it was _far_ newer than Killua’s building from the 1920s. The parking garage below the front lobby housed a fenced-in bike rack and a spot for mopeds and motorcycles near the elevator. Gon swiped his keycard—an actual _card_—and the elevator doors opened. 

“When did you move here?” Killua asked, studying the metallic shine in the elevator as they stood side-by-side, pretending they weren’t two seconds away from popping boners. 

The elevator was deadly quiet. 

Gon hummed thoughtfully and said, “About a year and a half ago? I… actually got evicted from my old apartment, and I crashed at Kurapika’s place for a little while while I saved up. I had two videos up at the time and those pretty much funded the deposit.”

“Wow,” Killua whispered, afraid to speak any louder on the matter. 

The elevator chimed and the door slid open. Gon stepped out, held the door, and gestured for Killua to follow down the carpeted corridor. It felt like a dingy hotel to Killua, and he blamed it on the weird, beige wallpaper. He clasped his hands to the straps of his backpack where he had just about everything: Spare clothes, toothbrush, soap, shampoo, condoms and lube (both of which he was sure Gon had, if that unboxing was anything to go by), and a pen to sign his name on the dotted line. 

Gon stopped in front of a familiar door where Killua and Kurapika had once spent six minutes waiting for Gon to sweep his sex toys under the rug, unbeknownst to Killua at the time. He scanned his card and the lock blinked green. When he pushed it open, Killua’s heart nearly rammed straight through his chest. He felt it pumping in his ears, flushing his cheeks pink, as he stepped over the threshold after Gon and listened as Gon shut the door, turned the locks, and bolted it shut. 

“Well, this is mine,” Gon said, hands in his pockets. 

Killua hesitated to take a step past the foyer carpet. He toed off his shoes and walked down the narrow hall built for a goddamn gnome. Gon was the first to step into the kitchen, which spread to an open format living room beyond the marble countertop. The living room was long and stretched to a set of wide, open windows. If it weren’t so cloudy that day, Killua imagined that the light would be warm and brilliant out on the living room couch. 

The furniture was all very… _mature_ for someone like Gon, and it made Killua wonder if the apartment came furnished. Considering the size of the hallway, he had to assume that was the case.

“Do you want something to drink?” Gon asked. 

“Oh, um, no thanks. I don’t drink anymore.” Killua scratched awkwardly at his hair and wished he could bash his head into the countertop. _Way to make it awkward_.

“That’s fine. I’ve got Sunny D?”

Killua snorted and said, “Why? I mean, that sounds good. I’ll have some of that shit.”

Gon beamed and instantly went to the refrigerator. He raised the massive orange jug up, displaying it like he was some sort of hand model, before pairing it with two wine glasses. Killua laughed as Gon explained, “I get sort of… _down_ in the winter so copious amounts of vitamin D keep me functioning. Especially when winter here is basically constant overcast.”

“Damn. That’s a mood,” Killua said. He leant across the counter to take the filled wine glass and took a sip. It was sweet and sharp on his tongue, and the orange aftertaste reminded him of his childhood. “Reminds me of summer,” he said. 

“Reminds me of San Diego,” Gon sighed as he put the jug away. 

Killua rose an eyebrow. “San Diego? Why San Diego?”

Gon was in the middle of taking a sip when Killua spoke. He hummed, swallowed, and said, “Oh, that’s where I grew up. As you may or may not tell from my _clearly_ Mexican roots and good looks.” He slapped on a crooked smirk and lidded eyes that had Killua laughing. 

“Right, yeah, because your accident didn’t give you away or anything. Why would you come to the _dreadful_ East Coast?”

“You know, I wish I knew,” Gon said, and the moment he said it, Killua remembered why. Gon never said anything, but Kurapika did, and it had everything to do with the scholarship Gon was promised freshmen year. 

Killua ducked his head, rubbing his fingers over the glass of his drink. “I’m… sorry about your football gig. That must have been rough,” he said, though what he _really _wanted to say had Gon’s aunt written all over it. 

Gon waved his hand dismissively. “Oh, I don’t care about that anymore. But thanks for the sentiment. I mean, the guys on the team were pretty cool and I’m still friends with some of them, but I never really got that close to that whole scene?”

Killua laughed darkly and said, “You’re lucky, then. They’re assholes.”

Gon smiled. “How would you know?”

“‘Cause I used to fuck with ‘em freshmen year,” he said with a dismissive shrug. “Well, namely one. He was nice and all but… it just didn’t work out.” Killua often wondered if he’d still be with that guy today if things went differently. If Killua wasn’t so emotional.

Gon’s smile slipped. “You’ve had sex with one of the football players?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s his name?”

Killua grinned against the glass. “What, are you jealous, Freecss?” he asked with a purr in his voice that had Gon visibly bristling. 

He had a tight smile on his lips as he set his glass down and circled around to where Killua put his hip against the counter and rose an eyebrow at Gon. Gon tipped his head to the side, his hand gliding along the marble before coming to rest at Killua’s hips. His eyes skimmed down Killua’s chest and back up again as he said, “I don’t get jealous. I’m just interested.”

Killua laughed. _How oblivious does this guy think I am?_ “Oh, really,” he said, all sarcasm.

“Yes, really,” Gon said, leaning in close so Killua felt the words on his lips. 

“Are you gonna chip my tooth again this time?” Killua asked, grinning. His insides were fluttering, pulsing, flickering with every breath. 

“We’ll see.”

Gon pushed his lips to Killua’s with a light, feathery touch. He closed his lips over Killua’s before opening again and pushing in with tender force, urging Killua’s mouth open and a weak, heady groan pulled up from his throat as Gon’s fingers pressed agains this hips and pulled him close. Gon’s palms worked magic on his hips, his waist, as Killua set his half-finished glass down so he could tug his arms around Gon’s neck and drag him in. 

He sucked in a deep breath as his tongue ran along the side of Gon’s. He shivered at the sharp, tangy edge of Sunny D on Gon’s lips, in his mouth, on his hot, wet tongue. Killua laved his tongue between Gon’s teeth and felt Gon shudder against him when he dragged it against the inside of his cheek before retracting, closing his lips over Gon’s, and audibly parting with Gon’s saliva still hot on and _in_ his mouth. 

Gon pinned Killua against the countertop by the hips, his hard cock rubbing against Killua’s crotch as he reached back to shrug off his backpack and fling it off to the side. Gon went for his jacket, his mouth heavy against Killua’s as they breathed against one another, kissing frantically, and shedding articles of clothing as they staggered across the apartment, tripping over each others’ feet, until at last Gon hooked his hands against the backs of Killua’s thighs and hefted him up onto his waist. Killua hooked his ankles behind Gon’s back and knotted his fingers in Gon’s hair, dragging out a moan as he lapped his tongue between Gon’s lips and plunged back in with vicious intent.

Gon put a hand to the doorframe of the bedroom, the other pressed firmly to Killua’s lower back. His skin was hot against Killua as he put a knee to the mattress and tipped forward, over Killua, and onto the thick, fluffy comforter. Killua’s jeans were _too tight_ around his crotch, but before he could undo the zipper, Gon’s palm was on his throbbing dick through the denim. 

Killua shivered, head thrown back with a groan. “_Gon_,” he breathed, his voice completely fucked over by how turned on he was. 

Gon leant back, panting, and seemed to come back from whatever state they had just warped into. Killua blinked, clearing the haze from his eyes as Gon leant over him, catching his breath. 

“We…” Gon started, eyes flitting between Killua’s. They were wider than before, stunned, and after a moment, he swallowed hard and said, “We need to… discuss everything. I, um—hang on.”

Gon scrambled back, swaying to his feet. Killua pushed himself up onto his elbows as Gon went to his desk and Killua realized that he was _way_ too familiar with this room than he should have been. He’d seen it all, but it was so much different in the early afternoon light, with the windows wide open, and the curtains on the four post bed drawn closed all except for the gap Gon had dropped them through. 

Killua’s attention moved to Gon’s display shelving unit. Since the last time Killua saw it, it was now _packed_ with toys and glass displays of limited edition products from adult stores. Killua imagined most of them were sent by companies, and Killua realized that Gon was the perfect outreach point for them: he would have a fresh, untainted bias and therefore, was more likely to recommend their products. He wasn’t well-versed in sex toys, so he didn’t know what made one brand better than the other. He wasn’t biased like the rest of HUNter.

Killua pushed to the edge of the bed and rose to his feet. He wandered over to study them, and when Gon came back, he found Killua studying the collection. When Gon handed him the paper, he had gathered the sanity he lost at the touch of Gon’s lips. 

“Here’s the contract. We’ll go over it together so I know what your limits are,” Gon said as Killua took the packet of paper and squinted at the fine print. He sifted through it, noting the highlighted sections, and the dense list of checkboxes on the final page under the section detailing boundaries and actions that were prohibited by the signee. 

“Oh… this is, like, an _actual_ contract,” Killua hummed. He didn’t think he’d find something so _legal_ in Gon’s apartment.

Gon winced and said, “_Yeah_, my mentor hooked me up with a contract writer in Manhattan. She’s worked with a lot of HUNters in the past. I honestly don’t know what half of the things on the checklist are, but Retz has explained some of them to me.”

Killua took the contract over to the bed. He felt odd using Gon’s desk, but he was familiar with the bed—_boy_, was he familiar with it—so he sat down with Gon at his side with Gon’s pen in his hand. 

As Killua read through the first few dry pages, Gon waited, reclined back on the bed, slightly behind Killua, so he could feel Gon’s fingers against the hem of his shirt, drifting under, running along the elastic band of his underwear. Killua shivered as he signed the third page, and the next detailing allergies—none of which Killua had—and initialed it before moving on to the checklist. 

The checklist was meant to check off _undesirable_ actions in the eyes of the signee. He immediately checked off a few ones that made him cringe. And then, when he had slimmed down the checklist to the basics, he turned to Gon, who was half-on his phone, half-stroking Killua’s back. “Okay, I’m onto the checklist. Here are the ones I crossed off.”

Gon shifted forward, leaning against Killua’s back and resting his chin on his shoulder. He read over the ones Killua crossed off and said, “Okay. What about these ones?”

“I’m okay with light bondage, but nothing hardcore. I’m not sure about blindfolds, though.”

“Then cross out blindfolds,” Gon said. 

“What if I change my mind later?”

“That’s fine. We won’t cross it out now, and we won’t try it today. What about public sex?”

“I’m fine with semi-public,” Killua said. _If the history hall bathroom was anything to go by_… “But that’s kind of hard to facilitate with camera equipment?”

“Yeah, maybe not public videos. People might know where we are then,” Gon said. They crossed it off. “Sensory?”

“Wax, ice, whatever,” Killua said. “I’ve never tried it.”

“Have you tried the others?”

Killua turned to narrow his eyes at Gon. Gon leant back from Killua’s shoulder, a little alarmed, and said, “What? I’m just asking.”

“I feel like that’s a loaded question, considering how well all your other questions went when formatted like that,” Killua said. “I’m okay with sex toys, so I’ll leave that…”

Gon shifted to the edge of the bed, leaving Killua’s back cold when he left. He hopped to his feet and went to the display case, saying, “Which ones were you looking at earlier? We should try some.”

“_Some?_ Okay, maybe, like, _two_,” Killua said, turning back to the contract. He signed his name at the bottom of the checklist before pushing off and meeting Gon at the display case. “Are there… more than before?”

“Oh, yeah, I unpacked a bunch of them. The ones on this shelf are sponsored, so I need to use those eventually… which isn’t to say _you_ have to be in the video, just that I need to use them at some point and talk about it in a video.”

Killua pulled the glass panel aside. It moved smoothly and removed the shine from the displays. He picked up a slick, wooden case of butt plugs mostly because they looked like collectables. He shifted his weight to one foot as he picked one up by the shallow handle. He put it back when he realized that it was the exact one Gon had used in his initial video involving dildos. 

He put the case back and went for a vibrator on that same shelf. “I’ve never used vibrators before,” Gon confessed. 

Killua checked the battery before switching it on. Gon startled as it started to hum. It was a muffled, charged sound that Killua was mildly impressed by. From his experience, they were loud, obnoxious things. “This one’s good quality,” he said, dragging his fingers down the length of it. It trembled between his thumb and forefinger, and when he put it up to the second dial, it _really_ kicked into speed. “We should use this,” he said, passing it to Gon. He nabbed a pair of soft cuffs from the shelf and handed them to Gon before moving on to Gon’s glass selection. He found the small dildo Gon had used in his first video, and it sat right next to a larger, more prominent glass dildo with bulk in the middle. It had a light, hourglass shape and was infused with wisps of opaque, blue glass. He took that as well, and the weight of it had his heart thumbing in his chest as he passed it to Gon. 

“Can I use these on you?” Gon asked, eyes wide. 

Killua narrowed his eyes and said, “This is about you, isn’t it?”

“No, I wanna make _you_ feel good,” Gon said. 

Killua blushed all shades of red for the hundredth time that week. He looked away and coughed into his elbow, muttering, “Yeah, but these are _your_ viewers, asshole. I don’t mind being a top.”

“No, I wanna top,” Gon said.

If it was possible to exceed the color red, Killua’s face did it. “Th-That’s—Fine, whatever. I didn’t want to top anyway,” Killua said, turning away. He grabbed the contract and slapped it onto Gon’s desk where several monitors blinked to life when Killua accidentally nudged the mouse. All across the screen were windows of Gon’s Twitter notifications, his Instagram, a Google Analytics window, and a window of _Killua’s_ Instagram right next to a blog post about gay sex positions. 

Gon yelped and scrambled to exit out of those last two windows, but Killua had already seen them. Killua jabbed a finger at the position on screen and said, “We are _not_ doing that. My legs can’t go in that direction.”

Gon slapped the mouse and keyboard so hard something glitched and a window opened the last twenty closed tabs on a Chrome window. Killua stared in horror as he watched twenty or so HUNter tabs open from the gay porn category. He burst into laughter before he could stop himself, watching Gon juggle the vibrator, the glass dildo, and the handcuffs as he tried to get his damn computer under control. He was on the ground, stomach aching, by the time the moaning on the speakers cut off and they were left with only the sound of Killua’s hyena laughter.

His laughter sputtered out when Gon crouched over him and whined, “Stop laughing! I was doing research!”

“Yeah, ‘_research_’,” Killua said, rubbing away tears from the corners of his eyes. He giggled again, cheeks in _agony_ from how wide he was smiling. 

Gon pouted at him, looking like a gremlin with sex toys clutched in his arms, crouched down low to the ground. Killua pushed himself up and, without hesitation, placed his lips over Gon’s pouty lips. They parted and Killua opened his eyes to find Gon’s eyelids closed, a faint smile on his lips. Gon opened his eyes, lidded, and whispered, “Do it again?”

Killua indulged the idiot. He could have kissed that cheeky smile every damn second of the day. 

His hands went to Gon’s hair, and Gon gasped into his mouth when he _tugged_. He grinned, shivering at the sensation of Gon’s tongue running along the seam of his mouth, pushing in with all of the technique Killua had used half an hour before. Killua tugged the toys out of Gon’s hands, letting them roll off on the rug as Gon shoved him back onto the ground. Killua’s knees fell to the sides as Gon slotted his thigh up to Killua’s crotch and _rubbed_. _Hard_.

“_Fuck_,” Killua gasped, fingers raking against Gon’s neck. 

Gon hitched his hands under Killua’s knees and heaved him up with a grunt. When Killua put his head back, Gon’s lips found their way back to his chin, his jaw, his neck. Killua pushed himself to his elbows, rolling his hips into Gon’s. Gon had him straddling his waist, where he could feel Gon’s dick straining through the fabric of their jeans. Killua was no better.

Hot, gnawing _tension_ twisted in his gut as met each of Gon’s thrust with his hips rolling, his toes curling, his nails _digging_ into Gon’s shoulder blades. He needed their clothes _off_. _Now_.

“G-Gon—” Killua started, panting.

Gon lifted his lips from Killua’s neck. “You can’t call me Gon—not on camera,” he said. 

_Shit, right. That’s happening_, he thought, eyes wide. He nodded, swallowed hard, and said, “Then you can’t use my name.”

Gon nodded. His lips were flushed as he licked them and said, “What do you want me to call you?”

He shook his head. “I don’t care.”

Gon teasingly rocked his hips against Killua’s crotch. His hands gripped Killua’s thighs with bruising force that had him biting back a moan. A shiver coursed down his spine and directly to the throbbing erection in his jeans. 

_Enough of this_, he thought as he pushed himself up, his hands on the long, soft fibers of Gon’s expensive-ass rug. It was like lying on a goddamn Pillow Pet and Killua would have _none of it_.

He grabbed Gon by the hair again, passing his hand along Gon’s flushed ear as he said, “Get the damn camera.”

Gon’s hands left his legs. When his feet touched down again, Killua felt as though he had spent that brief minute floating on a cloud. The damn rug _felt_ like one, anyway. Dizzy from the sheer speed of his heart, Killua tugged his shirt over his head and flicked it off to the side at the exact moment Gon’s hand appeared to help him up.

When he was on his feet, Gon put the GoPro in his palm and said, “So what’ll it be? Stream or video?”

Killua had thought enough about it to know his response, but it still made him hesitate. One _long_ stream, or two videos? They had the content for it: two sex toys followed by Gon inevitably fucking him senseless. Killua shivered. _All in one go_, he thought, giddy at the prospect of it. 

He swallowed hard and said, “Video.”

“Okay,” Gon said.

Killua took the GoPro strap and loosened it. He went to the ensuite restroom where he fixed his hair around the strap. Thankfully, the fluff was under control that day and wouldn’t get in the way of the lens. After it was secured, he went back to the room only to find the curtains drawn over the windows, the decorative neon lights on, the studio lamps on, a microphone on a stand beside the bed, and Gon already completely naked.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Killua said, startled and nearly blinded. He nearly turned right back around to the bathroom, but Gon had him by the hand. “I leave for two seconds and you’re already butt naked.”

“Yeah, the camera’s on,” Gon said. Killua touched a hand to his forehead. Gon smiled and rose an eyebrow. “Unless you want me to strip tease for you? Because I can _definitely _do that.”

“Fuck no. Too late now,” Killua said, quietly, because his eyes were all the way down to Gon’s crotch. And then he remembered that _he_ was the one completely in control of the camera. He put his eyes back where they were supposed to be—on Gon’s smug smile as he said:

“You can stare all you like, babe.”

Killua’s cheeks flushed bright pink. He stammered for a hot second before blurting out, “Wh-What’s with that pet name? Christ, that’s so embarrassing—”

Gon pouted, stepping back and guiding Killua to the bed with that innocent, teasing look in his eyes that gave him hundreds of thousands of followers. “What, you don’t like it? You want me to call you something else, _hun?_”

“Okay, no, ‘_babe_’ is better than _that_,” Killua scoffed, laughing. 

For a moment, he forgot about the camera on his forehead as Gon sat back on the bed. Killua put his knee to the sheets, resting alongside Gon’s muscular thigh as he pushed up and straddled Gon’s hips. He let out a shaky breath when Gon pushed his hips up and played it off as “getting comfortable.” He cursed and Gon smiled wider, his hands on Killua’s wrists. 

“As amazing as you look in those jeans…” Gon started, his hands moving to Killua’s ass, “I really want them off of you.”

Killua licked his lips. “Do it yourself, _Freakss_.”

He lifted his hips up, settling on his knees until the exact moment Gon put his foot to the mattress behind Killua’s ass and used it as leverage to completely flip him. Killua let out a startled yelp, eyes wide, and bounced on the mattress next to where Gon had rolled down the fluffy, dense comforter to the end of the bed. He looked down between them where Gon was now leaning over him, half-off the bed, his cock hard and hanging between them. He could feel the hot tip of it against his leg as Gon’s fingers went to the waistband of Killua’s jeans. 

“Don’t mind if I do,” Gon said, and Killua looked up to find Gon grinning down at him. He unlatched the button and yanked the zipper down, and it tugged at Killua’s hips when Gon yanked his jeans off his ass. His boxers held on for dear life, though, and holy _shit_, this was _it_. He was about to flash the entire internet in less than a minute.

Gon flicked the jeans aside before leaning over Killua’s spread legs. He ran his fingers down the bare skin of his thigh and laid a kiss to his knee. His open-mouthed kisses scorched Killua’s skin and turned his insides white-hot in a matter of seconds. 

Killua reached down and passed his hands over Gon’s hair, tugging it back. Gon’s soft, fluffy hair was his new obsession, so he wove his fingers through Gon’s hair, his thumb rubbing against Gon’s forehead as he pushed and brought Gon’s eyes up to his. 

“Is this okay?” Gon whispered, eyes bright. 

“More than okay,” Killua said.

Gon smiled, wide and genuine as always, but it turned Killua on more than usual now that Gon’s head was between his knees. 

Gon’s fingers hooked on the hem of his underwear. He lifted the elastic over Killua’s cock and pushed them down. Killua raised his hips and watched, enthralled, as Gon’s eyes took him in like he’d never seen Killua’s hard dick before. Gon looked up to meet Killua’s eyes, at which point Gon said, “You look so good like this, babe. Spread your legs for me.”

Killua’s heart fluttered in his chest. He felt that sensation before, and _fuck_, it always would be the death of him. He stamped it out as soon as it began to rise in his chest. He swallowed hard and, with the heels of his feet pushed into the sheets, he let his knees fall to the side. 

He pushed himself back on the bed as Gon climbed back on, his arms sliding beneath Killua’s raised legs. He laved his tongue up Killua’s pale, tender thighs and pressed a light, feathery kiss to the base of Killua’s erection. Killua shivered, cursing under his breath. He couldn’t look away. The camera was forgotten on his forehead, but still, every ounce of his self-control wanted to keep his eyes on Gon’s lips as he took his dick between his lips and sucked him down.

Killua put his palm to his mouth and bit into it, a muffled moan escaping. Gon swallowed him down and Killua thought to himself, _This wasn’t on the itinerary_. Gon pulled back only to suck him back in, saliva and precum on his reddened lips. When he pulled back again, he popped off and licked at Killua’s head, his eyes flitting up to meet Killua’s wide eyes.

Gon reached up to tug at Killua’s wrist, pulling his hand from his mouth. “Let me hear you,” Gon whispered, lips wet as he brought Killua’s abused palm to his mouth and licked the bite marks. He ran his tongue up the length of Killua’s thumb. Killua turned his wrist, cupping Gon’s chin as he sucked on Killua’s thumb, grazing it with his teeth and smiling up at Killua, at the camera. 

“H-Holy shit,” Killua breathed, because _this really was porn_. 

“Are you okay with this?” Gon asked, resting the pad of Killua’s thumb against his bottom lip. 

“Y-Yes,” Killua whispered. “_Fuck yes_.” 

Gon’s smile widened. “Good. Now—take your pick.”

Gon reached across the bed, towards the folded-up comforter, and presented two bottles of lube for Killua to decide between. He really couldn’t care less, so he grabbed the first one that caught his eye and Gon tossed the other one aside and took the bottle from Killua. He leant back on his heels and said, “How much should I use?”

He started to squeeze it out, and looked up quizzically to Killua. “More,” Killua said, sitting up to direct Gon’s hand, the bottle, and capped it once there was enough. Gon folded his fingers over it, and it oozed between them, squelching against them. Gon giggled at the sound and Killua rolled his eyes. “You’ve fingered girls before, right?”

“Yeah,” Gon said. 

“Okay. So take this a bit slower—start with one finger,” Killua said, and Gon nodded, eyes bright and attentive on the shiny, slick substance between his fingers. 

Killua leant back on his elbows as Gon warmed the lube up before tentatively pressing his finger just above Killua’s hole. He let out a shuddering breath and nodded to Gon, who put his free hand to the sheet next to Killua’s hip and pushed his middle finger in. 

Killua relaxed his muscles, but his breath was still tight in his throat. His arms shook as Gon’s finger slipped in down to the knuckle, the rest of his fingers pressed to the sensitive skin of his ass. He put his head back and groaned, biting his lip when Gon crooked his finger. It felt _weird_, not quite _pleasant_, but he was used to the sensation to know that it was only a matter of time before he’d be stretched enough for the _actual thing_.

“Does that hurt?” Gon asked, hesitant. 

Killua shook his head, breathing deeply. “Add another finger,” Killua said, and Gon complied. 

Gon worked against the tension in Killua’s muscles. He put his head back and tried to relax again. After a few seconds, he was able to, and he looked back to urge Gon to stretch him. 

Killua waited, expecting Gon to scissor him, but instead, he put in a third finger. “D-Dude! Holy _shit—_” Killua gasped, his toes curling into the sheets. He clenched a fist to his thigh as Gon hesitated.

“I-Is that not what you meant?” Gon said, eyes wide. 

“Not exactly!” Killua groaned, trembling when Gon slid his fingers out to the first knuckle before pushing them back in, his thumb dragging up just beneath his balls. Killua swore again, arms shaking, cheeks flushed. It didn’t take long for him to tap out, a hand to Gon’s bicep as he said, “O-Okay. Okay, that’s good enough.” 

“Are you sure? Do you need a fourth—”

“No!” Killua laughed, pushing the back of his hand over his mouth. He held back another laugh when Gon pulled back like Killua had just screamed bloody murder. “I’m fine, F-Freakss. Really,” he said, hand still clutching Gon’s arm. He squeezed tighter, smiling. “But honestly, next time? Two is enough.”

“O-Oh, okay,” Gon said, letting out a relieved sigh. He laughed, nervously, and said, “I thought I hurt you.”

“You didn’t. You didn’t, Freakss—I’m okay,” Killua said. 

“Just—tell me if it hurts?”

Killua rolled his eyes. “Obviously.”

Gon reached for one of the dildos on the bed. As far as Killua could tell, he did so blindly, and when he brought it before his eyes, he was pleasantly surprised to find that he had grabbed the glass dildo. Killua went for the tube of lube on the sheets as Gon explained, “After that… _first try_, I was sent this. Isn’t it nice?”

“We’ll fucking see if it _actually is_. Here, put this on it,” Killua said, prompting Gon to put his hand out. Gon gave him his already slicked-up hand and Killua squeeze a hefty dollop of lube onto it. As Killua capped the bottle, Gon rubbed his palm up the length of the dildo’s hourglass shape, all the way to the rounded tip. 

And then, Gon was touching that same tip to Killua’s wet hole and asking if Killua was ready. Killua nodded, gripping onto Gon’s bicep where he had leveraged his hand against Killua’s thigh. Gon leant over him, easing the glass dildo in. The bulbous tip had Killua’s mouth falling open, sucking in a deep breath as Gon pushed it to the first, narrow waist of the hourglass staff. He let all of the air in his lungs escape in a low groan, his nails digging into Gon’s arm as he vaguely heard Gon’s voice ask if he was all right. He nodded, and the next notch was pushed in.

Gon’s slicked hand touched his cock then and stroked up against his stomach. Killua shuddered out a curse, every part of him flushed white-hot with arousal. His skin trembled, sticky with sweat, as Gon pushed the dildo in up to the hilt, and it vanished from Killua’s view. Gon had his eyes on Killua’s face, waiting. Killua felt _tight_ all the way down to his feet until he moved his knee back and gestured for Gon to put the hand he had on the sheets under his leg. Gon propped Killua’s knee back—_far_ back— and all the tension in his body _lifted_.

“_Fuck_,” Killua moaned.

“How is it?”

“_Good_,” Killua breathed. “Fuck me. Do it—” He never finished because Gon was already pulling the dildo back and pushing it in. 

Gon was gentle for the first few thrust until Killua groaned out, “_Harder_, shithead,” and grabbed Gon by the hair again. Gon hoisted Killua’s leg to his shoulder and Killua let out an unintentional cry of ecstasy because _shit_, that _really_ hit the spot now. Gon rammed the glass tip harder than before, coaxed on by the breathy, thrilled sounds that left Killua’s throat without clearance, without intention, and certainly without his notice. 

Killua’s arm trembled as he held himself up and rocked his hips against each thrust. He wouldn’t last long, not when he could feel Gon’s hot, wet breath on his knee as he sucked bruising, stippled marks onto his pale skin through the heady pace. Killua’s cock bobbed against his stomach as he rocked, rolling up to the hilt of the dildo so he could feel Gon’s knuckles gripping the base of it against the inside of his thigh. 

He could feel the tight, scalding knot in his stomach starting to fray. 

His hand shot out to grasp hold of Gon’s wrist, holding the dildo in place where it hit his prostate _just so_. He fucked himself onto it with shallow, sharp twists of his hips. His mouth fell open, a shaky, passionate moan escaping his throat when Gon crooked the dildo like he _knew exactly_ how to push Killua off the edge. 

“_F-Freakss_,” Killua groaned, about to throw his head back. He couldn’t hold it up, not when he was trembling like this, shaking and on the brink of orgasming. 

With his arm hooked under Killua’s knee, holding it high like before, Gon grasped onto Killua’s thick white hair and said, “Keep your eyes on me. I want to see what you look like when you cum.”

Killua came in thick, white stripes across his stomach. The cum was hot against his already feverish skin, and Gon fucked him through it, through the tightened muscles in his ass, and pounding against his prostate until Killua was left gasping, weakened from the strain of just about _everything_. 

Killua dropped his head forward. He forgot about the camera, which bumped onto Gon’s shoulder. He could feel Gon smiling against his hair as he slowly, gently, pulled the dildo out notch-by-notch. 

“You did so well,” Gon whispered against his hair. “How do you feel?”

Killua pulled back, rubbing a hand over his eyes. He felt… fluffy, on the inside, and it made him smile weakly as he hummed, “Fine. That was—That was _really_ good.”

“Yeah?”

“Fuck yeah. I’m not exaggerating,” Killua said, laughing. He flopped back on the bed and groaned. “I feel sticky now, though.”

Gon leaned over him, into view, and tipped his head curiously like he was examining a coin on the pavement and deciding whether or not it’d give him good luck. He smiled wide and pecked Killua on the lips and said, “Babe, you taste like salt.”

“Wow, thanks,” Killua laughed, shoving his hand into Gon’s face. 

Gon giggled and rolled away and off of the bed. He pushed the curtain aside as he went, saying, “I’ll clean you up.”

“Whatever,” Killua grunted, resisting the urge to curl up on his side. He wanted to hug a pillow, or Gon, either would work at this point, but his stomach was absolutely filthy with cum. 

He flopped his hand around in search of the glass dildo. When he found it, it was already cold and still slick with lube. He held it up and gave it a shake, saying, “You… are a masterpiece. I’d give you at least a four-star rating on Amazon.”

“Really?” Gon called out from the bathroom. He was running the faucet, and when it cut out, he came padding back, cock still completely up in the air and ready for action.

Killua looked down at him and got a full view of the state of his own flaccid penis. Killua rolled his eyes and put his attention back to the glass dildo as he let Gon take it from him and set it on the nightstand, out of range. “Yeah, it was, like… _next level_. I’ve never fucked something that expensive before.” 

“Really? How much do you think it cost?”

“I don’t fucking know.”

Gon passed a warm, soft cloth over Killua’s stomach and wiped him down in a few, slow strokes. “I… wasn’t too hard on you, was it?” Gon asked. 

Killua looked back down at him. Gon was biting his lip, eyes on Killua’s stomach as he folded the cloth over and passed over his skin again. He could feel the sweat on the sheets cooling underneath him. “No, that was good. I like it a bit rougher,” he confessed. 

Gon looked up at him. Killua’s cheeks flushed all over again and he went back to lying there with his eyes on the sheer, smooth fabric of Gon’s poster bed curtains. He cleared his throat as he passed a hand under his nose and said, “Don’t, uh… don’t worry about hurting me. I’ll tell you if it hurts.”

“Okay. I’ll do better next time.”

“This time was _fine_, G—” Killua started, irritated, but caught himself from saying Gon’s name. He sat up to catch Gon’s eye again, but Gon was leaning back to put the towel away. He grabbed Gon by the side of his face, stilling him at the edge of the bed. Gon stared at him, amber eyes stretched wide. Killua gave him a shake and said, “You did _really _well, for your first time fucking a dude with a dildo, Freakss.”

Gon looked down with a laugh and a soft smile. “Yeah, okay. Thank you,” he said. When he looked back up, it was through his lashes, and the fuzzy feeling in Killua’s stomach expanded to his chest where his heartbeat started to pick up its pace again. 

He swallowed hard as Gon walked off. He let his hand fall to his lap as he watched Gon rinse off the towel through the open bathroom door. 

Killua turned his eyes away, touching a hand to the headband across his forehead. His attention went to the folded-up comforter, where Gon had left the last two items on their list lying in wait. He reached for the hot pink vibrator and passed his fingers up along the thick base of it to the narrow tip. He turned the dial up to two, where he had felt the most energy before. He turned the dial up to three and smiled.

_Oh yeah, this will be fun_, he thought, a devious grin on his lips. 


	7. Aftercare For Dummies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killua has a brilliant idea that backfires TREMENDOUSLY.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY, WHICH ONE OF YOU SLUTS POSTED THIS COMMENT?? I'M D E C E A S E D.
> 
> Also, the overwhelming majority picked Killua?? so here you go??

Gon switched the neon lights to pink. The lamps were simple, exposed stretches of neon bulbs on dense, black metal strips mounted to the corners of the room. The studio lighting softened their effects, otherwise recording would be _hellish_. He moved the lamp, softened it with a pale sheet of canvas, and accented it with another light from behind the white curtains draped over the posts of the bed. 

Killua checked the time on his phone from where he had completely abandoned it in his jean pocket. He felt odd sitting straight on the sheet due to the damp, squishy texture still in his ass from the lube before. Gon gestured for him to stand up as he came through with a laundry basket and did away with the sheets. There, Killua found Gon’s trick for keeping his bed clean: There was an entire layer of towels underneath his bedsheets, all of which were damp from their sweat and the lube. 

“That—” Killua started, only to realize that he had no clue what to say to that. He cleared his throat awkwardly when Gon looked at him. “I… didn’t realize you put towels under the sheets.”

“Yeah. I’d put them on top, but people don’t want to see that,” Gon said as he replaced the towels and shook fresh ones out of a stack underneath the bed skirt. He snapped them out over the dense mattress pad and layered them up. The comforter was still in place at the foot of the bed, and he laid the next sheet over that as well—after handing the vibrator and cuffs to Killua, of course. 

Killua’s phone read that it was barely past the afternoon. It felt bright like daylight in the room despite the curtains being drawn, and he suddenly felt cold now that he wasn’t insulated by the mattress. He shivered as he walked over to Gon’s desk and set his phone down. 

When he turned back, Gon had arranged the pillows at the headboard. Gon was half-on the bed, fluffing the pillows, so Killua went around to the other side and climbed on, leaving the cuffs on the nightstand as he crawled up beside Gon and leant against the pillows. He brandished the vibrator, which had Gon pausing in the midst of fixing the sheets. 

“So I was thinking…” Killua said.

“That sounds dangerous,” Gon teased, leaning back on his heels. He had no shame, with his dick out and about like that. 

Killua bit his lip and dragged his eyes up past Gon’s toned abdomen. The guy really _was_ sex on legs and Killua couldn’t get enough of him. He reached out for Gon’s neck, which Gon gave with a smile, coaxed forward by Killua’s fingers at the nape of his neck. Gon put his hand to the headboard, at which point, Killua pushed the heels of his palms to Gon’s shoulders and eased Gon back, around, and onto the pillows. 

Gon’s eyes widened as Killua straddled his hips, knees clenched tight on either side. He sat back on Gon’s thighs and reached for the lube on the nightstand. “We aren’t—I don’t think I’m ready to—” Gon started, hesitantly.

Killua rolled his eyes. “I’m not putting this in you, idiot,” he said with a laugh. Gon relaxed, his hands settling at Killua’s hips. “I just want to set a few ground rules.”

Gon frowned up at him as he raised his hips and popped the lube cap open with his free hand. He dribbled it over the vibrator and capped the lube. It slipped down the length of the hot pink dildo all the way to Killua’s fist closed over the thick base of it. Gon stared at it like he was watching ice cream melt on a cone. Killua chased it with his finger and swiped some up to rub against his ass. His breath hitched as he pressed into his hole, and Gon’s hands passed over his cheeks, palming at his ass as he rocked against his fingers.

“One: You can’t touch yourself,” Killua said. Gon licked his lips and brought his eyes back up to Killua’s. Killua hesitated, unable to hide his own smile. “Two: You can’t touch me with your hands.”

Gon’s hands stilled where he had been rubbing circles on Killua’s ass with his thumbs. Using the vibrator, Killua flicked Gon’s hands off, which had Gon whining, “Aw, but babe—!”

Killua rolled his eyes at the pet name. _Guess it comes as a consequence to not being able to use our real names_, he thought as he brought the vibrator up to the first level button and the dial clicked.

Gon immediately stopped complaining because in the next instance, Killua was pressing it to Gon’s erect dick. He ran it up and down Gon’s length, spreading the lube as he went, and trembled when he felt Gon’s legs tighten between him, his knees pulling up so Killua’s ass was pressed to them again. Gon reached for the vibrator, a tight groan caught in the back of his throat that only released when Killua gave him a sharp look. 

Gon clenched his fists and brought them back behind his head, gripping the headboard as his cheeks and ears flushed red. He bit his lip and nodded, saying, “O-Okay, I won’t use my hands.”

“Good,” Killua said, and with the vibrator throughly slicked, he turned it off and reached behind himself with it. Gon relaxed his legs, and it gave Killua enough space to press the narrow tip of the vibrator to his wet hole.

He pushed down onto it with ease. He was stretched and ready to take the entire vibrator down to the thick base, at which point he trembled and let out a low moan as he watched Gon’s knuckles turn white against the headboard. He looked down between them, at Gon’s flushed cock, shining with lube. 

After a moment, he clasped the dildo firmly, steady, and rolled his hips back against Gon’s legs before pushing their cocks together between their stomachs. With his thumb, he switched the first level of vibration on and let out a low, shaky curse as Gon’s hot, throbbing dick rubbed smoothly between their stomachs. 

Gon put his head back and moaned, “_Holy shit—_”

Killua lifted himself up and down, rubbing along Gon’s cock as he leveled himself with a hand on the headboard. He clasped his fingers over Gon’s clenched knuckles, his eyes stuck between them where Gon’s golden, olive skin flushed against his pale, pink dick. Lube smeared up his stomach, over his abs, and soothed over the hot, tender knot trapped in his gut where he kicked the vibrator up to the second level.

His legs quaked as he swore to _God_ that he’d make it through to the third level if it was the last thing he did, but _fuck_, he could feel his orgasm riding closer and closer with each thrust in. The vibrator wasn’t as long as the glass dildo, but he could feel it trembling through every part of him, turning his muscles to Jello over Gon, whose grip slackened on the headboard when Killua breathed out, “I’m c-close—”

“Let me help—I want to feel you,” Gon begged, straightening up on the bed with one hand nearly leaving Killua’s grip on the headboard. 

Killua pushed his hand to Gon’s chest, stilling him against the headboard. Gon gasped, panting, when Killua’s hand slipped down between them and rubbed their cocks together more thoroughly, hand already slick with lube from prepping himself. 

He switched the vibrator to three. 

His knees buckled.

He stammered out a curse, and he was _sure_ Gon could feel it when he slipped back against Gon’s raised legs. He humped against Gon’s crotch, his abdomen, through the sheer _brutal_ vibrations in his ass. Pearls of precum dripped from their cocks as Gon leant forward, neck arching, and licked his tongue up the column of Killua’s throat. His arms stretched out, hands still clasped to the headboard. Killua shook as he felt Gon’s lips tremble from the moan in his throat as he laved his tongue against the base of Killua’s throat, where his neck met his shoulder, and sucked against his trapezius. The sensation kicked his nerves into overdrive, thrumming in his chest with such intensity, it took too goddamn long for his thumb to find the switch on the vibrator.

When he did find it, and when he _did_ switch it off, he was on the brink of cumming when Gon bit into his trapezius and Killua thought to himself, _Holy _fuck_, that’s going to bruise_. 

His muscles ceased control as he came with a sharp, startled cry—all across Gon’s chest.

Panting, Killua barely removed the vibrator, legs shaking, when Gon’s hands left the headboard and reached for something blindly on the nightstand. Killua’s vision was blurry, sweat gathered against his brow. He could taste the hot, salty arousal in the air when Gon completely threw him onto his back.

The breath was knocked out of Killua. He cursed, sucking in a sharp, winded breath when Gon grabbed the vibrator and chucked it across the bed where it bounced off the mattress and slapped wetly onto the ground. Killua clutched his hand to Gon’s hair as he heard something tear. He couldn’t speak—his throat sore for unknown reasons—so when Gon sucked at the bruised bite mark on his shoulder, all he could do was gasp. 

Gon licked one last open-mouthed kiss against it before pulling back to look down at his hard, leaking cock. He rolled a condom on and said, “I’m going to fuck you—_so hard_ right now. Is that okay?”

Killua swallowed hard, rubbing a hand over his eyes to clear his vision when he saw Gon squeeze lube over the condom. He didn’t care that the slick graze of Gon’s cock against his inner thigh set his entire _body_ on fire. It felt like each hair follicle in his skin was getting ready to _implode_. He was dazed, delirious, and still horny as _shit_. 

Killua nodded and rasped out, “Y-Yes.”

That was all it took before Gon was shoving himself into Killua’s ass without ceremony and without restraint. Killua let out a pained cry, his mouth falling open as Gon rocked hard against Killua’s hips. He hooked his hand beneath Killua’s knees and heaved his hips off of the mattress, seating himself in to the hilt in a matter of seconds. 

Killua had never been manhandled like _that_ before, and his already dizzy head started to spin when all of the weight from his legs and hips were under Gon’s control now. 

Killua clutched at the sheets over his head, toes curling, and groaned at the sensation of fire twisting and flickering in his gut. Gon grunted as he spread his knees and, one hand poised against Killua’s lower back, began pumping shallow thrusts into Killua. 

He tried to keep his head up—he really did—but his body wouldn’t obey him. Every thrust against his prostate had his flaccid cock aching, setting his loose, relaxed muscles on fire, and the sheen of sweat on his skin dampening even further. He was floating again, like he had been on the rug when Gon took all of his weight in his hands and turned friction into ecstasy. 

Gon folded over him, meeting Killua’s eyes with a hand to his bruised shoulder and said, “Keep your eyes on me, okay? Don’t—Don’t look away—”

Killua nodded, breathing in deep as Gon stilled his hips for the swift few seconds it took for Killua to push himself to his elbows, to his hands, and onto Gon’s lap where he hooked his arms around Gon’s neck. He leant back, pressing his hair to Gon’s forehead as Gon set the pace once more, bouncing Killua heavy and hard on his cock. Killua’s dick was coming alive again as Gon brutalized his prostate and turned his muscles to Jello again with each thrust _up_.

Gon stroked Killua’s dick between them as it hardened and bobbed against his stomach. Killua raised himself onto his knees, watching the base of Gon’s cock come into view before he slammed back down and let out a choked groan when Gon met him halfway. The pace quickened, and each broad stroke turned the air between them steamy and sticky with their sweat. 

Gon’s heavy hits turned shallow, quaking against Killua’s tender hole. He could feel Gon throbbing inside him as he stuttered, moaning. Killua ground his hips down, rubbing his ass against Gon’s balls as Gon fucked him through his orgasm, pumping his hand over Killua’s cock until he came _hard_. He spasmed with it, arms clutching tight around Gon’s neck, his cheek pressed to Gon’s hair. He let out a half-pained moan. The twisted knot in his gut _snapped_ and he was left limp and barely lucid in Gon’s lap.

_Fuck_, he thought, teary eyes blown wide. _Shit on a stick. Holy Mother Theresa_—

His throat felt tight—_too tight_ for comfort. He tried to clear it, and in doing so, let out a trembling breath as Gon sighed contently against him, his muscles relaxing. Gon’s arms were a warm, heavy semblance of comfort around Killua’s torso. 

_Don’t do it. Don’t you fucking dare_, Killua told himself, squeezing his burning eyes shut. It was too late. His tears felt icy cold against his flushed skin. 

“Holy shit, that was—” Gon started, leaning back. 

Killua covered his eyes, but Gon had already seen the red tinge around them, the moisture collecting with his sweat. He sucked in a deep breath and hiccuped pathetically as Gon stared at him in horror and said, “Shit, did I hurt you? Fuck, fuck, fuck—babe—”

Gon was instantly unstrapping the GoPro. He tossed it to the end of the bed. Killua wasn’t even aware of the tension from the strap anymore until it was gone, and his suffocated skin turned cold against the air. His forehead throbbed, a headache coming on as Gon scrambled out from under him in a panic. 

“D-Don’t—” Killua started, weakly. He couldn’t even say it. The last time he said it, it did nothing to help.

Gon ran across the bedroom, cursing like a sailor the entire way. He shed the condom, grabbed a towel, and turned the faucet on a whole two seconds before shutting it off and running back to Killua. He vaulted across the bed like a goddamn gymnast and said, “What do you need? Tell me what hurts and I’ll—”

“N-Nothing hurts, I-I promise,” Killua said between sobs. _Fuck_, he sounded like he was in _agony_. He hid his face behind his arm and slumped to the side, collapsing against the pillows. The tears pooled at the corners of his eye and dripped from his nose as Gon hovered over him, still holding the hardly-damp towel and not knowing what in the goddamn Hell to do.

“K-Killua, tell me what’s wrong,” Gon begged. 

Killua’s lips trembled. He couldn’t speak, not like this. His throat hurt too much anyway. He stared blankly at the spot next to him before reaching for Gon’s arm. Gon shuffled closer, and took the hint when Killua gently tugged him down to the mattress. Gon was stiff and awkward as he held himself up on one elbow and Killua tucked himself against Gon’s chest and held himself there in Gon’s heat for as long as it took for him to breathe again. 

He sucked in sharp, shaky breaths. The pillow underneath him was damp with tears. 

Gently, several minutes later, Gon laid the towel over Killua’s stomach. When Killua didn’t move, he started to rub tenderly at Killua’s chest and stomach until it was as clean as it’d get with a half-dry towel. He scrubbed at himself hastily as Killua stared at Gon’s tanned chest and willed himself to die right then and there. 

_This is so embarrassing_, he thought, mortified as Gon tossed the towel aside. He closed his eyes. _Maybe if I pretend I’m asleep…_

“Killua,” Gon whispered, giving him a light shake on the shoulder. Killua peeked open one eye and found Gon’s eyes in front of him, his head craned awkwardly to the side. “Tell me what’s wrong?”

Killua’s cheeks felt tight like someone had just layered his face with saran wrap. He tugged Gon down to his level, his hand on Gon’s hair. He pressed Gon’s head down onto the pillow next to him, until they were lying side-by-side. Killua stared at a freckle on Gon’s shoulder and said, “Sometimes… wh-when I have sex, I get… I wouldn’t call it _depressed_. I’m just sad and anxious afterwards.”

When he mustered the strength to look, he found Gon staring at him, horrified. “Was it that bad?” Gon whispered.

Killua snorted a little, sniffing. He shook his head. “No, it was really good. _Really_ good.”

Gon relaxed. “Oh, phew. Okay. Then what’s the matter?”

“Nothing. It’s just a condition, I guess. People call it _postcoital dysphoria,_ but I call it bullshit,” Killua said. Gon laughed a little, shuffling closer. Killua rubbed a finger under his eye and sniffed again. His lips trembled at the thought of Gon asking him to leave. Perhaps it _was_ a bad idea to bring an entire backpack full of over-night gear. Doing so cemented his idiotic logic that said Gon _wanted_ him to spend the night. He jumped to too many conclusions. 

He always did. 

“So, um,” Killua said, clearing his throat. He pushed himself onto his back and stared at the ceiling. He rubbed his eyes clear and said, “When do you want me out of your hair?”

“What?” Gon said.

Killua rolled his eyes. “Dude, this is _your_ place. When do you want me gone?”

Gon pushed himself up onto his elbow and into Killua’s view. “You can stay as long as you like,” Gon said. He looked down with a pout, rubbing his fingers over the sheets between them. “I… kind of thought you’d stay the night? But that’s okay if you need to go or something.”

Killua could have bawled his eyes out right then and there. Instead, he summoned every fiber of strength and self-control in his being in order to _not_ do that, but he couldn’t stop his lips from trembling as he whispered, “I don’t want to leave.”

“Oh, Killua—” Gon started, pushing a hand over Killua’s forehead. He combed Killua’s bangs back and said, “You look so pathetic with the weird red stripe across your forehead from the GoPro.”

Killua stared at him for an entire second before bursting into laughter. Gon smiled up until the moment Killua started tearing up again like the absolute imbecile he was. He sat up and Gon wrapped his arms around Killua’s shoulders, holding him close.

They sat together for the two minutes it took for Killua to get his shit together and decide that he needed to pee _or else_. He rubbed Gon’s back and whispered as much to him, to which Gon replied, “Fuck, same. Let’s go. I can totally carry you if you want—”

“I don’t need to be fucking carried, you peasant,” Killua huffed as he pushed away and shuffled to the edge of the bed. When his feet touched the ground, he kept his hand on the mattress and tested his weight. His ass was, to say the least, _grass_. He gritted his teeth and began his walk of shame to the bathroom while Gon watched, looking too petrified to bother helping. Killua was grateful, though—he could piss on his own. He was a goddamn _adult_. Who did Gon think he was? _Weak?_

Killua took care of business and rifled around in Gon’s cupboards like Kurapika searching for dildos in Killua’s restroom. Meanwhile, Gon stripped the bed (again) and replaced the white sheets with plain, heather grey ones. The neon pink lights flicked off and left a cool tone in the bathroom as Killua cleaned bum with lukewarm water and decided he’d rather take a shower at this point. 

“Hey Gon?” Killua said, about to walk out. Instead, Gon appeared from around the corner like fucking Beetlejuice. “Fucking _shit_ dude, don’t scare me like that,” Killua huffed. 

“Sorry! Sorry,” Gon said. “What do you need? Aspirin? Water?”

“A fucking shower, dude,” Killua said. _God_, he sounded congested, but he didn’t want to sniff again. Sniffing was for children and pussies.

“Oh! Right, sorry,” Gon said, scrambling forward. 

He passed Killua on the way to the tub as Killua said, “You don’t need to apologize for everything, you know.”

“I know. I tend to live by the assumption that everything is my fault,” Gon confessed as he tugged the curtain closed and started the shower up. 

Killua didn’t know what to say to that so he just murmured, “Oh,” as Gon escaped the bathroom with a thumbs up and disappeared back into the room to finish cleaning. 

By the time Killua was out of the shower and scrubbing himself dry, Gon had already put the laundry in the wash, left Killua’s backpack at the restroom door, and _refilled Killua’s water bottle_. He didn’t even know he was thirsty until he took one sip and wound up guzzling the rest down as he stepped into the bedroom, a towel around his waist, and found the place empty. 

He stared at the empty bedroom and the open window curtains. It looked like nothing had happened except _snowed_. There were white, fluffy flakes trickling down from the overcast sky. He put his backpack in Gon’s desk chair, but rather than deal with that, he found a pair of boxers, sweatpants, and a shirt folded up on the white comforter on the bed. He stared at them for a moment before deciding to go for the clothes Gon left behind for him—except for the boxers. He fetched a fresh pair of _those_ from his backpack.

He went out to search the rest of the apartment—not that there _was_ much to search. The living room was quiet, as was the kitchen. The only light came from the back hallway and the windows at the far end of the living room. Distantly, there was a dull hum through a door that Killua sought out. He reached for the door handle and pulled it open. It was a coat closet, merged with a washer and dryer. He closed the door and looked back at the empty apartment with a hollow sensation in his chest. 

_Where’s Gon?_ he wondered, heart beating fast. 

He swallowed hard against the knot in his throat as he went back to the bedroom, only to hesitate at the threshold. That was _Gon’s_ place. Visiting privileges or not, he didn’t want to intrude on Gon’s personal space any more than he already had. 

_Maybe I should just go_, he mused, scratching at his hair. His eyes burned at the thought, though. He’d feel like shit for a while still, he knew that, if his headache was anything to go by. It was almost enough for him to forget about the unfathomable _high_ Gon had given him that day. He hated how this lingering _gloom_ overshadowed how he _really_ felt about sex with Gon. 

He went to grab his backpack and phone and took it to the couch in the living room. He blew his nose and tossed the tissue out in the bin under the kitchen sink. After that was taken care of, he unlocked his phone and opened the Uber app. 

He tugged his feet up onto the cushion, and just before he could make the order, the front door opened. He jumped in shock, eyes wide, and found Gon shuffling in and kicking the door shut behind him. In his hands were two plastic bags of Qudoba takeout. 

“Oh, you’re already out,” Gon said. Killua wrapped his arms around his knees as Gon dropped the bags off at the counter and tossed his wallet into a shallow dish. “I wasn’t sure what you like, but after you insulted my California roll, I take it you like something spicer? If not, I’m willing to share.”

“O-Oh, thank you,” Killua said, awkwardly, and watched uselessly as Gon put a togo bowl in front of him on the coffee table along with a fork. He picked at it disinterestedly, appetite gone, and watched as Gon dumped their Sunny D glasses and refilled them. When he returned to the living room, Killua caught his eye and that blinding smile. He ducked his head, blushing, and went back to picking at his food. 

Gon dropped onto the cushion next to him, their thighs touching, and one arm dropped back behind Killua’s shoulders. With his free hand, Gon turned on the TV and spooned Qudoba into his mouth. Killua watched it all with mild fascination. Just half an hour ago Gon was balls deep in his ass. And now? Now they were watching _Netflix_ and eating _Qudoba?_

_What the Hell?_ Killua thought, throat tight. 

He set his Qudoba aside and stood up. When he realized that the only bathroom he knew of was in Gon’s bedroom, he hesitated. He paused at the end of the couch, scratching at his hair, and Gon turned to watch him, attentive as always. 

“I, um,” Killua started, struggling for words. What _were_ words, if not miscellaneous letters mashed together against his tongue? They were useless, really, especially now when he couldn’t manage to speak. 

Gon put his bowl down and stood up. Killua felt something cold drip from his cheek and _fuck_, he was already crying again. His brain felt thick in his skull, spilling over into tears as Gon hurried to him. “I-I feel like I should leave,” Killua confessed against Gon’s shirt. 

“If you want to go you can,” Gon said. “Would you feel better at your place?”

_God, yes_, he thought. He nodded, though, and wondered how Gon knew that before _he_ even did. 

“Okay. Let me just grab my things and I’ll go with you,” Gon said. “Do you want me to stay with you there?”

“Yeah. Yes, actually,” Killua said, clearing his throat. Gon nodded and hurried off to grab an overnight bag while Killua went in search of his shoes and jacket. 

It was snowy outside, which wasn’t an ideal condition for Gon’s bike. And, so, they ordered an Uber that took them to the front of Killua’s apartment complex. His ass still sort of hurt, but he didn’t complain as they climbed two flights of stairs to Killua’s apartment. Gon had a tote in his hand clasped by the straps at his side and the Qudoba takeout in the other. When they entered, he set it on the kitchen counter and left his shoes at the door. Killua locked the door behind them and awkwardly shed his things. His backpack. His jacket. His shoes. Before mechanically tipping onto the bed face-first. 

Much to his amusement, Gon collapsed—right on top of him. 

“Ow,” Killua moaned into the pillow, smiling (just a little).

“Oh, sorry, am I on top of you?” Gon said, and Killua started laughing as Gon shimmied around and said, “Let me just—move over a smidge—”

“_Gon_, come on,” Killua laughed, elbowing him in the rib. He rolled to his side and Gon flopped over, an arm strewn over Killua’s waist. 

“Do you feel better now?” Gon asked, lifting his head just enough to hover over Killua’s shoulder. 

Killua bit his lip and nodded. He _did_ feel better, being in his own bed. He nestled in and pulled his knees up so that he could sneak under the blankets. Gon helped tug the comforter over them, and Killua took the opportunity to settle in flush against Gon’s front, his hands clasped over Gon’s arm across his stomach. 

Gon tightened his grip as Killua sighed and laughed a little. “This is such an inconvenience…” he said, dreadfully. “Sorry to bother you.”

“It’s never a bother,” Gon said. He pushed himself up onto his elbow, propped his head up, and Killua twisted around to meet his eyes. “Honestly… I really kind of _like_ taking care of people after sex. Is that weird?”

Killua shook his head. “Not at all. If you have the energy for it, I guess.”

Gon smiled. Killua swallowed hard and pictured the nude model in his figuring drawing course, here with Gon, being pampered with Sunny D. He laughed a little and put his face to Gon’s chest. Retz didn’t seem like the type who’d want to be pampered. 

“Maybe next time… we _don’t_ let you orgasm three times in a row?” Gon suggested. 

Killua looked up with a cheeky grin and said, “_Next time?_ Was there a time limit on the contract I wasn’t aware of?”

Gon laughed and nudged Killua in the arm. “_No_. I just figured… if you _liked it_… we might be able to do that again?”

Killua put his face back to Gon’s chest and offered a slight nod. He cleared his throat and hugged Gon’s torso tight as he said, “Yeah, that sounds good to me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Chapter seven of _Tease_ appears on the projector over the court*  
Court Judge: "What do you have to say for yourself."  
Me: "I... having nothing to say, your honor."


	8. Pay Day = Fun Day

Gon Freecss spent all of Friday night and Saturday at Killua’s apartment. There wasn’t much to do aside from watch movies off of Killua’s shitty television and watch Gon edit the videos. He was swift about it, though, and from the tension in Gon’s brow, Killua determined something interesting: That Gon wasn’t even watching _actual_ porn right now. He was just splicing together a normal video. 

When Gon edited videos, the rest of the world fell away. He stuck his earbuds in and set to work. All of the footage was already stored locally on Gon’s computer, which he then transferred to an external hard drive where it would live in one long MP4. And, then, it would be split down the middle—sex toys versus _actual_ sex—with the ends and intermissions trimmed off. Killua watched from over Gon’s shoulder as he tweaked the lighting, the color, and the curtains on Gon’s bed became an angelic glow in the background. 

“Wow,” Killua whispered as Gon exported the file late Saturday evening and saved it for Tuesday’s upload. Gon glanced over his shoulder, confused, and Killua explained, “You just—You made it look really good.”

“Really?” Gon said, unconvinced. He pushed his laptop to the side and moved back to Killua, who was reclining against the pillows. Every part of Killua was lulled to a gentle tide. His thoughts came with each inhale, and the words developed with each exhale. He blamed it on the joint Gon took from between his fingers and put to his lips. 

Gon took two puffs before handing it back and, in doing so, pressed his palm to Killua’s other side, against the thick, winter blankets on Killua’s mattress. Killua swallowed hard against the bundle of energy in his stomach that turned latent from the calming smoke in the air. Gon blew his smoke towards the half-open window and glanced out at the snow past the windowpanes.

Gon ran a thumb over Killua’s goosebumps on his bicep and said, “You cold?”

“I don’t know,” he confessed. He thought he was shivering from feeling hormonal and needy.

Gon took the joint back after Killua finished his turn. He stamped it out on the ceramic bowl on the window sill and cranked the window shut. The sound of traffic racing through slush muffled, and they were left in a quiet, tender pocket of silence. 

Killua asked if he could watch the video, and when he didn’t, he didn’t expect Gon to say, “Yes,” and then hand Killua his laptop. Killua stared at him, and then at the computer. He opened it, hesitantly, as Gon collapsed beside him with his phone in hand. Gon’s computer was unlocked, which he found odd considering the guy had it stuffed to the brink with porn videos. 

Killua clicked open the first of the videos—the glass dildo and the vibrator—and didn’t bother putting headphones on. Truthfully, he didn’t want to get up to fetch them, so he watched the video with his head propped up on the wall behind him, one knee flat to the blankets and the other pulled up to the side. The way Gon trimmed the video had it opening to Killua leaving the bathroom, his face blurred from the shot. When he left the bathroom, Gon was stark naked by the bed and Killua’s voice sounded in the speakers, saying, “_Jesus fucking Christ_.”

He laughed out loud despite himself. It was _too much_ like porn and he couldn’t believe he was the camera man. 

He shifted a little, feeling hot from watching Gon finger him on the bed. He felt inclined to open the window again, but Gon had _just_ closed it and _shit_, was he getting turned on? They hadn’t even started with the dildo yet. 

And then, hot breath touched his ear and he heard Gon whisper, “Are you hard yet?”

“Fuck no,” Killua huffed, irritated. He shoved Gon by the shoulder. “I’m not jerking off with you right there. This is purely just… me double-checking that you didn’t fuck shit up.”

“Oh, I fucked shit up alright. You, all over my bedsheets,” Gon teased. 

“_Stop_, I’m serious,” Killua laughed, slumping away with a groan.

Gon tipped after him, and Killua felt him against his back as he listened to his own needy breaths on the speakers of Gon’s computer. _God_, Gon was just listening to this for hours on end. He bit his lip as Gon licked at his neck and nibbled at the soft skin beneath his ear. Killua groaned, pushing the laptop aside so it wouldn’t get smothered by what he was about to do next.

Killua laced his fingers through Gon’s thick, black hair and tugged him back. He pushed up against Gon and shoved him into the wall by the shoulders, his lips crushing with bruising force against Gon’s mouth. Gon was pliant and _ready_ for it, breathing in deep through his nose as he opened his mouth and let Killua ravage his tongue, his cheeks, and licked over Gon’s teeth before sucking his bottom lip into his mouth. He arched against Gon as the guy had the _audacity_ to _moan like that_, like Killua was fucking him sideways instead of _making out with him_. 

Brow tense with focus, Killua clasped his hands to Gon’s jawline, hips up, and rocked back down as he let go of Gon’s mouth and laid open-mouthed kisses to his chin, his neck, his collarbone, all the way down the front of his shirt. 

Before his lips could find the waistband of Gon’s boxers, he was already undoing the fly and urging Gon to ditch them. Gon wasted no time. He swung his feet to the side and kicked out of his jeans, and Killua did the work of dragging Gon’s hard cock out of that Calvin Klein masterpiece. 

Sure, he imagined sucking Freecss’ dick in the past—even _before_ he found the guy’s HUNter profile. It wasn’t by any means the first time he had seen the damn thing up close an personal, but it _was_ the first time he saw it within licking distance. He dragged his tongue up from the base to the tip, coating it in a thin, shiny layer of his saliva as Gon’s fingers bunched against his scalp, tugging at his hair. The salty taste of Gon’s skin on his tongue was _far_ too intoxicating for Killua to reasonably handle.

He swirled his tongue up the shaft of it before taking the head between his lips and sucking it down as far as he could. With his hand, he stroked at the base of it, each finger gingerly, carefully, _squeezing_ out a startled moan from Gon’s throat. He pulled his head back and went down again, setting a slow, steady pace as Gon combed at his hair and groaned out praises like, “_Fuck_, yes, that feel’s so good—You’re _amazing—_”

And then, he dragged his tongue up, saliva slick on his lips, and ran it along the underside of his leaking tip. Precum touched his tongue and burned going down—something he always tended to gauge for ahead of time. It was better than feeling like his throat was scorched with acid for the better part of the day, anyway.

He lapped at the soft, sensitive skin under the tip of Gon’s dick before taking him down again to drag the orgasm out of him. Gon breath hitched just before he came, and Killua popped off in that same instant with salty white cum dripping from the corner of his lip as Gon completely milked his left cheek. 

Killua rubbed a finger under his eye and looked down at the semen on his finger as he said, “Yeah, I deserved that.”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Gon said, but when Killua looked up, Gon looked more amused than anything. 

“Yeah, right, you smug shithead,” Killua laughed, scooting to the edge of the bed. He got up and went to clean off, at which point he came back to toss a towel at Gon and found the guy’s dick already at attention. Gon caught the towel from the air and set to work cleaning himself off as Killua slapped his hands down and said, “Dude, what the fuck?” 

“What?” Gon asked, completely oblivious. 

Killua turned away with a roll of his eyes. He should have figured Gon had impressive refractory periods between orgasms. Their first three rounds were different—Killua was _certain_ that Gon kept himself from ejaculating, which was impressive on its own. It made sense, though, considering the industry Gon was in. Still, it dawned on him that the way Gon jumped him after the vibrator might have had something to do with it. 

He splashed water over his face once more before drying off and heading into the room. He was still hard as shit in his basketball shorts, but he didn’t care. Hands on his hips, he stepped up beside Gon, who was tugging his underwear back on, dropping his feet to the rug. 

“Okay, first thing’s first,” Killua said. Gon looked up, attentive with those bright, innocent eyes. “Next time we have sex, if you’re trying to get me to orgasm more than once, you gotta give me a minute between rounds.”

“Why?” Gon said. 

“Haven’t you heard of a refractory period?” Killua said, eyes wide.

Gon pouted his lips, a hand propped on his knee, and shook his head. “No. What’s that?”

Killua slapped a hand to his forehead. “For Chrissake…” he sighed. He put out a hand as he explained, voice terse, “The ladies must _love_ you.”

Gon smiled. “Oh, they do.”

“A refractory period is when you’re—” he started, but he didn’t know how to explain it without sounding like a prude. Gon waited, patiently, and oh-so eager. “It’s when you can’t get it up, alright? Your brain basically cancels out your arousal and is like, ‘Cool your jets, man.’”

“Oh. How long does it last? Like a couple of seconds?”

_Fucking Hell_, Killua thought. “_No_. It can last from a few minutes to an entire day, dude. It depends on the guy.”

“Oh. I don’t think I have that. Is it a condition? Are you okay?” Gon asked. 

“I-I’m fine!” Killua squeaked, thinking, _Are _you_ okay, though?!_ “My refractory period is usually around five to thirty minutes depending on how turned on I am. Women don’t usually have one, so I’m… not surprised you haven’t had to deal with it.” _More than a little surprised! Holy shit!_

Killua turned away to hide the thinly veiled expression on his face. He went to the kitchen and wondered just how possible it was for a man to _not_ have a refractory period—at least not one he was aware of. That had to be a world record of some kind. All this time Killua had thought _he_ was an anomaly. He never slept with a guy with a refractory period under _an hour_.

He grabbed his water bottle and started chugging it down and blamed it on the lingering taste of penis at the back of his throat.

And then, he heard the orgasmic sounds coming off of Gon’s computer. He nearly choked, slapping the back of his hand to his mouth as he spun around and found Gon sitting there, no different than before, with the audio from his speakers behind him. He was on his phone again, so when Killua came clamoring onto the bed, Gon was startled back into reality by Killua saying, “Is that really me? Holy _shit—_”

“What? What’s wrong?” Gon asked, twisting back around. Their shoulders bumped together as they stared at the screen where Gon was fucking him with the glass dildo. 

“I…” Killua started, eyes wide. It sounded _real_. Like Gon was fucking a professional who knew how to play the audience with those tantalizing, intoxicating _moans_. “I sound _sexy_,” he said, slapping a hand to his hair.

“Oh, you didn’t know?” Gon said. 

He laughed when Killua shoved him in the arm and cried, “I’m serious! It’s like—It’s like _snoring_. You don’t know if you do it until you sleep next to someone who’s brutally honest. Ya don’t know what you sound like having sex until it’s recorded for the entire internet to see.”

“I… don’t know how relatable that is,” he confessed, a finger to his lips. 

Killua took another drink from his water bottle before climbing back onto the bed. They watched the video through to the end without losing their minds. They didn’t even lose their clothes in the process, because after Gon pulled his pants up, Killua made a rule for himself: Only masterbate in the shower (nothing new there) and no sex on the bed. He didn’t want to clean the sheets.

When they switched over to the second video that Gon would upload the following week, Killua looked at it and turned to stare at Gon, who had his lip caught between his teeth. Gon rose an eyebrow at him, to which Killua said, “We never used to handcuffs.”

Gon’s mouth fell open in horror. He put a hand over his lips and whispered, “We need to reshoot it.”

Killua gawked at him and elbowed Gon so hard in the chest that Gon crumpled to the side with a cry and accidentally slipped off of the edge of the bed. He hit the ground like a sack of bones, screaming, and Killua laughed manically because _he deserved it_. Every bit of it.

***

At around dinner time, Gon packed up, tied his shoes, and zipped up his jacket. Killua walked him down to the building steps to the foyer entryway, and it was there that Gon turned to him and said, “I’ll… see you in Greek History?”

“Yeah. See you then,” Killua said, arms folded over his chest like a grandma waving farewell to her grandkids from her porch. 

And, so, Gon left and took that perfect smile and porn-filled computer with him. Killua shuffled back to his apartment and prepared for a long night of studying ahead. He _had_ slacked off for two entire days, anyway. 

Then came Monday, the Greek History exam. They were told to put all their shit on the stairs away from the lecture hall seats, and after settling in, test packets were passed up and down the rows of chairs. They were instructed to sit with an empty seat between them and the person next to them, so when Gon fetched the papers for them, he had to reach across an empty seat to pass it to Killua. 

Killua had his portfolio bag with him that day to spend the afternoon at the arts college building. When he filled in the last question and read over his answers two times just for good measure, he was off and shouldering his backpack and portfolio bag on his way down to the front. Several students had already handed in their papers, so Killua added his to the stack and passed his ID card to the TA, who checked him off and sent him on his way. 

At the door, Killua thought to himself, _I should have asked Gon if he wanted me to wait for him…_ But it wasn’t like they were _dating_. They both had their own separate lives and the last thing Killua wanted to do was keep a tally of what _Gon_ did every second of his day. 

Thus it was decided: He’d go on ahead to the studio building across campus where Zushi was there waiting for him. 

“There you are! I was wondering what happened to you,” Zushi said as Killua jogged up the hill and staggered, numbly, up to the front door.

His throat was sore from the frigid air as he said, “Sorry—I was just in an exam.”

“Oh, shit, how’d that go?”

“It went fine,” he sighed as he pushed into one of the first floor studio rooms. 

The lights were off all except for the wide stretch of windows where snow was collecting on the dry, brown flowerbeds in a thick white blanket. Killua flicked on the overhead lights and soon, the room was filled with a bright, yellowish glow. Killua and Zushi claimed the far back corner, nearest the windows for natural lighting, and set to work. 

Killua shed his coat and draped it over the back of his chair. In doing so, Zushi screamed, and Killua jumped. 

“K-Killua!” Zushi cried.

“What?! What is it?” Killua said, spinning around. No one and nothing was behind him, so he turned back around and got a finger to the throat. “Ow!”

“It looks like Godzilla went and took a bite out of your shoulder!” Zushi shrieked. 

Killua’s hand immediately slapped over the juncture between his neck and shoulder, where Gon had bit him hard enough to _actually_ bruise. It wasn’t even really a _hickey_ at this point, but rather a pink and purple bruise the size of a _baseball_. 

Zushi leant over, eyes wide, to examine all sides of Killua’s neck. Killua turned away, slightly, and continued to dodge Zushi as he tried to see more. And, then, Zushi was screaming, “There’s another one under your ear! Dude! Did you hook up with a _vampire_ or something?”

“N-No!” Killua stammered, uselessly. “I-I just—”

Zushi put his hands on his hips and said, “I thought you said you were giving up on sleeping with the football team.”

Killua flushed furiously and scowled at his friend. “I’m _not_ sleeping with the football team! We all know how well _that_ went,” he huffed, looking away. _Think fast!_ He needed something to nullify Zushi’s alarm. “I’ve just… been seeing someone. From… Tinder.”

Zushi stared dully at him. “Really? Tinder?”

Killua shrugged awkwardly and turned away to set up his sketchbook and charcoal tin. As he did, perched on the edge of his stool, Zushi scoffed, walked away, and said, “Just saying, dude—maybe _don’t_ date vampires?”

“Duly noted,” Killua said with a smirk that said he’d do it anyways. 

“Did you learn _nothing_ from _Twilight_?” 

“I learned that the best rough sex happens when bed frames are shattered.”

“Have you no self-preservation, my child?”

“Not in the slightest.”

Zushi flicked off the main lights and adjusted the studio spotlighting around the still-life from their perspective drawing course. It was a complex smattering of sculptural buildings, all skewed on a flat, wooden tabletop covered with a white cloth. 

They set to work with the sound of simple music swaying in the background to keep their minds from scattering. Killua’s fingers were the color of chalky asphalt when the studio door opened and one of their classmates slipped in. Soon after, another student appeared, and another, and the five of them worked with the sound of vine charcoal scratching along parchment. 

Sometime around five, Killua’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He set his charcoal aside, eyes bleary from staring at the glowing still-life for so long. Strategically, he pulled his phone from his pocket and unlocked it with his mostly-clean pinkie finger. 

16:54 **GON:** So I’ve been thinking about the handcuffs. 

16:56 **KILLUA:** Oh, have you now?

16:56 **GON:** Yes and I think we should shoot again on Friday if you’re down for it?

16:57 **KILLUA:** Is that even a question

16:57 **GON:** Consent is a thing my friend

16:58 **KILLUA:** Oh really and where did you hear that malarkey 

16:58 **GON:** Retz :) and also my mentor, but mostly Retz

16:58 **GON:** So what do you say?

16:59 **KILLUA:** I say yes and that I’ll be at your place by 3

16:59 **GON:** Perfect ;)

Tuesday came and, with it, Killua returned to HUNter. The tab on his phone was just over four days old now and internally, he blamed this unintentional “dry spell” on getting laid. At the thought of having regained his self-control, a smug grin spread across his lips. He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling of his apartment as he tapped the refresh button on the page. 

Subscribers were given priority access to newly released videos, which was something that helped him gauge just how many subscribers Gon had. The first day was limited only to their views, and from what he experienced, Gon had at least a hundred of his subscribers viewing videos on their release dates. That was already two thousand dollars a month. 

But that morning when Killua rubbed his eyes and squinted at his puny phone screen, he was met with a baffling total of _two_ _hundred_.

“Holy shit,” Killua whispered, pushing himself to his elbow.

Gon had titled the video, _First Time With A Guy_ (which Killua thought was lame, but… he couldn’t lie to himself. He’d click that link) and accompanied it with a thumbnail of Killua in front of the mirror at the very start of the video, his face pixeled out next to a _ridiculous_ photo of Gon doing an iconic impression of a disaster gay on the street gasping at the sight of some hot ass across the street. Killua only knew that because Gon had him taking pictures with his phone for a solid ten minutes while Gon said, “_Which makes me look gayer?_” which Killua replied with, “_The one where you look like you just saw the finest piece of ass you’ve ever seen_.”

Killua had no reason to see Gon that day, so he let it go and forgot about it until Wednesday, when the video was released to public viewing. In that time, _First Time With A Guy_ had jumped from two hundred views to three hundred and _fifty_. To top it off, the instant the video was released to the public, the views skyrocketed. By now, Killua was fully aware that every video Gon made eventually reached half a million. His most popular videos had over two million and often featured Retz—the popular, BDSM sweetheart of the HUNter community—or were clips from the longest livestream Gon had every done—featuring another star, Palm, who was famous in a niche part of HUNter that featured cinematic roleplaying and costumed sex. 

By Greek History on Wednesday, the video was at the threshold to one million. 

The comments were disabled.

Killua hesitated at the steps as he entered the lecture hall.

Gon was already sitting at their usual spot, like he wasn’t sitting on seven grand for this month. 

Slowly, hesitantly, Killua reached their row, and all the while, Gon was on his phone. It wasn’t until Killua came to stand directly next to him that Gon even realized that Killua was there. On his phone, Killua found Gon _watching the damn video_ with his headphones on.

Gon pulled them off and looked up at Killua, unashamed of the fact that he had Killua’s ass in HD on his damn iPhone X. Killua reached over and tugged the headphones off of Gon’s head. 

“What the Hell happened?” he demanded.

Gon bit his lip, grimaced, and clicked his phone off. “I… think my mentor might have shared the video?” he confessed, wincing like he was in agony. He looked down, shuffling uncomfortably, and added, “And… Retz might have hosted a viewing party with some of her mutuals.”

Killua stared at him for a solid second before dropping his backpack off and collapsing in his seat. He looked at Gon for a moment longer before slapping a hand to his forehead and muttering, “Fucking Christ…”

“Does it… bother you?”

“Not especially. I’m just surprised, I guess.”

“Well, if it helps, Retz and my mentor are both _very_ thrilled that I’ve had sex with a guy now,” Gon said. 

Killua scoffed and rolled his eyes. He rubbed a hand over his forehead before saying, “Why did you delete the comments?”

Gon turned to him, eyes wide. “Did you read them?”

“Not since yesterday morning, no.”

“O-Oh,” Gon said, shoulders slumping. “Good. That’s good.”

Killua furrowed his brow. “Why?”

The professor entered the lecture hall as Gon shook his head and said, “No reason.”

Killua thought about it all through lecture as their professor shifted the course onto the next subject. His brow furrowed as he came to the conclusion that content creators only disabled comments if there was anxiety to be associated with it. If there was a problem with the _commenters_. Were Gon’s followers actually _against_ the idea of Gon having gay sex? He wasn’t sure why he never thought of that as an issue until now. The nagging sensation that followed made him wonder, _Shit, did I just mar Gon’s reputation?_

But then he recalled the three hundred and fifty views from last night, before the 1AM public release. _He gained subscribers_, he determined, _just within twenty-four hours of releasing his video with me_. 

A _significant_ amount of subscribers, as well.

When class wrapped up, Killua packed away his notebook and shrugged on his jacket as Gon cleared his throat and said, awkwardly, “I can pay you upfront now, if you want. I don’t get paid until the thirtieth, but—”

“I can wait until the thirtieth,” Killua reassured, waving his hands dismissively. But with the way Gon was looking at him, Killua wondered if he should just take the money and run before shit went sideways. Before Gon decided that he didn’t want to be associated with him anymore. “B-But I mean, if you _want_ to pay me now, that’s cool too.”

“Would it just be easier if I bought the laptop myself and gave it to you?”

“Maybe. I don’t really care.”

“We could go there now…?”

“Uh, yeah, sure. Let’s go.”

Neither of them discussed the fact that the one video had a large enough impact to cancel out the second. Killua wondered if Gon would even upload it. His mind was screaming, demanding compensation and validation for his efforts on Friday. 

He _wanted_ the video on Gon’s profile.

He wasn’t sure why. It didn’t seem logical, by any means. 

Thus was how Killua found himself in the Manhattan subway system with Gon. Killua always found it odd how he could stand in public with a guy who had their dick up his ass. Shouldn’t people know about shit like that? Could strangers read it on their faces? He caught an old woman staring at him.

He was standing with a hand clasped to the metal bar next to the subway door. The subway creaked, clanked, and sounded like Satan released every demon from Hell through the wheels against the train tracks. It was like the entire subway was scraping against the ancient brick mortar tunnels. He grimaced and rubbed at his ear as Gon smiled weakly, apologetically, like, “_Oops, sorry, that was my fault_.”

“You always look so guilty,” Killua told him.

“I’m guilty because of my dirty thoughts,” Gon said, looking smug as Hell.

Killua resisted the urge to say, “_Same though_.” Instead, he scoffed, looked away, and muttered, “Shithead,” under his breath.

Gon barked out a laugh. Killua snickered a little—just a little—and went back to wondering what the odds were that the old lady on the nearest handicap seat knew Gon fucked him in the ass. 

The 7 train took them to Times Square where Killua felt his soul escape him the instant they stepped foot onto the platform. It wasn’t necessarily _dread_, nor was it the ominous drum beat far up the stairwell and far down the network of tiled corridors below the Manhattan Streets. Instead, it was because of a familiar face standing there, waiting for them to clear the path to the subway.

Killua stuttered to a halt, right in the middle of everyone’s path. Gon bumped into his back, and before either of them could recover, the blonde haired girl recognized Gon. 

“Freecss!” she squeaked, shocked. 

“Retz—! What’re you—?” Gon started, holding Killua by the shoulders. He nudged Killua to the side and followed soon after, and the girl came racing after them. 

Killua felt like his skeleton was trying to leap straight out of his flesh and onto the subway tracks. It was so impossibly loud to begin with—it _was_ the lunch rush, after all, and they were in Manhattan on top of it. Chaos was bound to ensue, and he didn’t think it’d come in the form of a HUNter BDSM dom preening like a goddamn golden retriever at the sight of Gon getting all flustered in the middle of the packed platform. 

“I was just on my way to visit a client!” she said, twisting around. There was a duffle strapped to her back. She spun back around and said, “But I’ll be early regardless, so let me walk you two! Congratulations, by the way! I’m so happy for you. Dick is an excellent addition to your diet.”

Gon coughed awkwardly. Killua’s jaw dropped.

Retz then looked at him. She stared at him for a moment, and then at Gon, and then between the both of them once more. “What brings you two over here?”

“Corporate America,” Killua said. Retz tipped her head to the side. “The best Apple store is here and my classes require a laptop.”

“Ah,” she hummed. “And who’s paying for it?”

Killua said nothing. Killua didn’t miss how Gon brought his hands down from where he had them tucked against the straps of his backpack. He put one hand in front of Killua, discretely, but obvious enough for Killua to notice.

Retz didn’t think twice. Her blue eyes flew open wide and she jumped approximately a foot in the air before shrieking, “Ah! It’s you, isn’t it? Oh, I would love to have some fun with you. You have such potential. Give me your number and I’ll—”

“No—No way,” Gon said, shaking his head. “Killua’s not—It was just a one-time thing.”

_One time?_ Killua thought, frowning. 

Retz pouted up at Gon, throwing her hands down. “You really think I’m gonna let you brush his talent under the rug. He’s already got the conditioning down! He’d make an excellent dom.”

“E-Excuse me?” Killua stammered, eyes wide. 

Gon turned to him as the 7 train roared past them, buffeting hot air against their jackets as he said, “Don’t listen to her. She’ll just—”

Retz jumped against his back, staggering Gon and startling Killua as she swung around his side, arms clasped around Gon’s neck, and said, “I’ll just teach you the absolute _best_ ways to get what you want out of this man right here. He’ll be putty in your hands by the time I’m done teaching you.”

Killua blinked. He thought about the time Retz humiliated Gon by gagging him with a penis strap and handcuffed him to her bedpost. She rode him like a goddamn rodeo—all while he was strapped into a vibrating cock ring.

Talk about over stimulation.

“I’m not into the humiliation factor,” Killua said. He blushed when someone bumped into him from behind—another train was coming in. “Maybe we could talk about this somewhere else?”

“Retz, don’t you have to be somewhere?” Gon said.

“Only if this is a date. Are you on a date right now?” she asked.

“You know how I feel about dating,” he whined, groaning when Retz merely rolled her eyes. 

Killua smiled at her as she took Gon by the hand and started towards the stairs. Likewise, Gon grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him along, and the three of them continued on like a bunch of preschoolers at a zoo, navigating the crowd, making sure not one little duckling was lost in the chaos. 

There were musicians playing at the intersections as Retz cut around tiled columns and navigated them through the throngs of people bustling about. They passed an underground flower stand, illuminated by florescent lights, and Retz pointed it out to Gon and said, “For your date!” to which Gon cried, “It’s not a date!” 

Retz stopped anyway and grabbed a bouquet of nine dollar tulips. She passed the vendor cash, took the dollar change, and bowed as she presented the tulips to Killua. “My liege,” she said.

“Careful, or you’ll turn me straight,” Killua said dully. 

“That’s enough of that,” Gon said, laughing nervously. “You didn’t have to do that, Retz.”

“Sour puss,” she said. She put a finger under his chin, much to the curiosity of the vendor, who watched the entire ordeal with wide eyes as Retz smiled sweetly and said, “Now thank the young gentlemen, and please watch your tone. I wouldn’t want to spank you in front of all these lovely people.”

_Holy fuck_, Killua thought, eyes wide. 

Gon swallowed hard and turned dully to the vendor, who looked uncomfortable to say the least. It just proved that, despite the amazing acoustics from the band, the guy could still hear Retz’ suggestive threat. 

“Thank you for the flowers,” Gon said, and grabbed Retz by the hand to tow her away. Killua stared for a moment before realizing that he would very well be left behind if he didn’t move—_stat. _The weirdest part, though, was carrying a bouquet of tulips with him like he was on his way to profess his love to some cute, cafe girl. Even weirder still: the fact that it came from a chance encounter with Retz.

_New York really _is_ a weird place_, he thought as he jogged up the steps after Gon and Retz and into daylight once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Killua: "Haven't you heard of a _r e f r a c t o r y p e r i o d_?"  
Gon: "What's a refractory period?"  
Killua: "[I—](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cmJudQW0GwM)"


	9. In Too Deep (If You Know What I Mean)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two things: 1) This fic is not sponsored by Apple, and 2) Gon completely abandoned his laundry on Friday to help Killua with his postcoital dysphoria, and I think that's beautiful.

“I’ve had this sort of… _guilt complex_ associated with doing nice things for myself. I mean, doing things _by_ myself, I guess. I always used to do things with Kurapika because I never wanted to just do _nice things_ for myself… _by_ myself. I always had to do it with other people. And I’ve just found that mindset really toxic—for me, anyway. It might work better for other people, and I wish I could blame it on my extrovertedness, but I don’t think that’s it.”

“I can understand that,” Retz said. 

Gon scowled at her and said, “I’ve already talked about this with you.”

“I can understand that,” Killua said, which earned him a glare in return. “No, really! I used to have that same mindset. I’d wind up going on dates because it gave me an excuse to ‘treat myself’ and take a break for once. It’s like… you can’t _mark on your calendar_ that you’re gonna bum around for an entire evening and go to sleep at three in the morning, but you _can_ mark a date.”

“Dates don’t equal validity,” Retz offered, and Killua snapped his fingers at her as if to say, _Bingo_.

“Yeah, I guess,” Gon sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. 

They were waiting in the bustling Apple store for Killua’s laptop. Killua took a seat on one of the wooden stools and clasped his hands together between his knees, watching the way Gon passed his hand up through his hair and back again. 

“I don’t know. Whenever I think about trying something new, I just think, ‘Oh, I need to do this _with someone_.’ With _Kurapika_, usually,” Gon confessed.

“How long have you two been friends?” Killua asked, perching his feet on the stool spokes.

“Since freshmen year,” he said. 

“You and Kurapika are so cute together,” Retz gushed, hands clasped beneath her chin. She merely beamed when Gon turned another scowl onto her and hissed, “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“I used to always think that my free nights or weekends were reserved for Zushi and dates,” Killua confessed, propping his chin up on his hand. Gon turned back to him, an eyebrow raised, and Killua shrugged. “I always had a few guys around who’d be down to fuck on a Thursday or Saturday or whatever.”

“Who?” Gon asked.

“Wow,” Retz said. “You’re an icon. I mean, same here, but still an icon.”

“Don’t encourage it,” Gon said.

“Remember what happened the last time I told you not to tell me what to do?” Retz threatened, a hand on her hip. 

When the store employee returned with a thick-as-hell Apple brand bag, Killua turned away from Gon’s flushed cheeks and Retz’ obvious God complex. He took the bag from the employee, who spent a minute too long checking Retz out. Killua couldn’t blame him—Retz dressed like a goddamn fashion blogger living in LA. He didn’t doubt that her brands were bougie, but something told him that every last piece of her ensemble was thrifted from upscale Greenwich Village resale stores.

Retz smiled at the employee, pointed a manicured finger at Gon, and said, “He’s paying today.”

“R-Right,” the employee stammered, eyes wide. He looked half-terrified when Gon turned to him and passed over a credit card, which took approximately three tries to scan before the guy turned the pad over to Gon and said, “S-Sign here, please.”

While Gon signed his name away to the devil, Killua hugged the Apple bag to his chest and turned to Retz, who was short even in her three inch red platform heels. “Are you always this vocal about threatening people in public?”

“Oh, absolutely,” she said. “I am very much capable of punching people in the throat. One time I sent a guy to the hospital and didn’t have to pay his medical bills, so that was a plus.”

“Holy…” the Apple employee whispered in horror. He snatched the pad back from Gon and said, “Have a nice day, and enjoy your new laptop.”

“Thanks! You too,” Gon said. As soon as the guy was gone, Gon turned back with a vague look of horror on his face and said, “I just told him to enjoy his laptop too.”

Retz patted him on the arm and said, “We all make mistakes, hun.”

And then, she reached back, tugged off her thick-rimmed black hat, and plopped it on Killua’s head. She tipped it back, just so, and took him by the shoulders. He blinked, stunned, and his feet moved on their own accord as per Retz’ gentle encouragement to leave the premises. He glanced at her and said, “What’re you—”

She took him by the chin and turned his face away. “The guy who checked us out is now _literally_ checking us out—on his phone. Keep walking.”

It took a second for Killua to process that they were being photographed. Specifically, that _Gon and Retz_ were being photographed. Killua was just an innocent bystander who just so happened to be featured in Gon’s most recent bi-awakening video. 

Gon pushed open the door to the streets of Times Square where Retz put her shoulder to the window display, Killua on her opposite side, and started off towards the nearest subway stairwell. Killua glanced back at Gon, who looked like he wanted to flip off the employee through the LED light display. Instead, Gon pocketed his hands and jogged to catch up.

And then, Retz was snatching her hat back and tugging it over her short, blonde curls. 

“Well, can’t say I was expecting that today,” she said. 

“What exactly _was_ that?” Killua said, glancing back at Gon again. “I didn’t know you guys were at _paparazzi status_.”

“I’ve gotten stopped on the street for a photo or two a handful of times,” Retz confessed. “Mostly I’m just publicly groped.”

“Ew,” Killua said with a grimace.

“I’ve been stopped twice, actually. Both by girls. Mostly if someone stares too long, I assume they’ve seen my penis,” Gon said.

_I can’t imagine living like _that_, _Killua thought, eyes wide. He scratched at his cheek, cleared his throat, and said, “Well, to be fair, it might also be because you look like a model.”

“Aw!” Retz cooed.

“That—! I could say the same for you!” Gon cried, but it clearly wasn’t what he meant to say, because an instant later, Killua’s jaw was on the ground and Gon was beet red. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Anyway, I gained around fifty subscribers just from that one video, and at least a hundred non-subscribers paid for the video in the first day. I don’t really think we even need to upload the second video—”

“There’s a _second video?!_” Retz screamed, astounded. Killua thought his eardrum was about to say its prayers and check out for the century, but instead, it merely rang for a few seconds as he blacked out and missed the part where Retz physically and—quite violently, might he add—demanded access to the video.

They barely made it to the subway terminal alive. Killua scanned his pass and stepped through security with Gon on his heels, frantic to escape Retz’ onslaught of, “At least tell me what you two did for the second video! Did you use the handcuffs? On who? How many times?”

“Once and _no_, we didn’t use the handcuffs,” Gon said, slipping through the metal detector with a frown. He hurried alongside Killua—their subway to Astoria was due soon, and they’d only just make it at the pace they were going. On the other hand, Retz was in a frenzy.

“This would be so much easier if you just shared the video with me,” she said, exasperated, shouting over the sound of a violin playing in the distance, reverberating off of the walls. “I would very much like to watch it—consider this as, like… testing the waters! Get a fresh set of eyes on your video, make sure it’s looking its best.”

Gon laughed hollowly as they jogged down the stairs to the platform. “Not a chance!” he called over his shoulder as Retz pouted at the top of the stairs and stomped her foot. 

She cupped her hands over her mouth and shouted, “Freecss! Don’t just walk away from me! I know where you live!” Her threat may have worried onlookers during their commutes, but Gon was hardly phased.

Gon pocketed his hands and sighed as they stood on the platform where the train was coming in. It felt by in a streak of silver, and it was there, as they waited for the doors to open and clear, that Gon leant towards Killua and said, “Sorry about Retz. She can be a bit overwhelming.”

“I didn’t mind,” he confessed, because it was true. He really_ didn’t_ mind Retz. He had thought that, if the day ever came in which he met her face-to-face, that he would be overwrought with stone cold jealousy—the type where he’d want to gauge her eyes out. But no amount of thinking about it would make it true. He was very, _very_ okay with Retz and Gon.

Was that weird?

Maybe.

They stood in silence in the cramped subway across the East River. Killua found himself studying the buckles on Gon’s leather jacket until their stop came up. There, Killua led the way out and off of the platform. They climbed the steps to daylight, which could hardly be described as such despite it being only five. Underneath the dull blue glow of evening, Gon and Killua started the trek across campus to their designated apartments. 

The street lamps came on during their walk. Killua tended to avoid this side of campus at five. Not because it was dangerous, but because of the location. He used to frequent it—a _lot_, in fact, during freshmen year. The gym, and with it, the arena complex near the indoor stadium. 

But considering the luck that brought them face-to-face with Retz, Killua shouldn’t have been at all surprised.

Killua ducked his head as they passed a group of guys leaving the gym. Five in the evening was a prime dinner period, but if you were a student athlete, it made sense to work out _before_ dinner. Practices, too, were all wrapped around mealtimes. 

And then he heard it: “_Is that Killua_?” one of them whispered.

“_Shit_,” Killua groaned under his breath. 

“Killua?” someone said, with more intention. 

He paused, turned, and plastered on a smile for the unlucky bastard. When he saw who it was, he shuddered so hard he felt his skeleton shift an entire inch backwards in his skin. 

It was the guy who always somehow _impossibly_ managed to beat his ass in their freshmen year classes. Killua was pretty competitive when it came to grades, but it was nothing compared to this guy, who barely understood the concept of _being_ competitive despite playing for Yorknew—as their _quarterback_, nonetheless. 

And he was looking even _better than before_. 

“M-Meruem, what’s up?” Killua said, startled. He clutched his Apple bag closer to his chest.

Meruem stared at Killua for a moment, from under the brim of his baseball cap. He was sporting a thin, 70s-inspired windbreaker that really _wasn’t_ applicable for the current temperature. His same group of idiots from the team were there as well, and Meruem glanced back at them to say, “You guys go ahead. I’m just gonna talk to Killua for a bit.”

“You know this guy?” Gon asked, quietly, as Killua watched Meruem’s thugs walk off and cross the street. 

“More or less,” Killua thought, but internally he was screaming, _Yeah, I know his dick!_

Meruem jogged up to them and offered a hand to Gon. “Hey, you look sort of familiar. Where do I know you from?”

_Hopefully not the internet_, Killua thought, and thankfully, Gon already had an answer. “I was scouted for the team when I enrolled, to be a running back,” he said.

“Right, right,” Meruem hummed. “Well, where are you two walking? I’ll walk with you.”

“I’m heading home,” Killua said.

“Yeah, we’re going to his apartment,” Gon said. Killua looked at him and gave him a what-the-fuck look. Gon squinted at him. 

Killua shook his head and turned to keep moving. Meruem trailed at his right side, Gon at his left, and he distinctly felt like he was in the presence of a testosterone overload.

“How have you been?” Meruem asked. 

“Fine.” _This is awkward_, he thought. “I see you’re still hanging out with your jackass friends.”

To this, Meruem laughed. He lifted his baseball cap to pass a hand over his thick, black hair and said, “They’re nice.”

“To you,” Killua added.

“How did you two meet?” Gon asked, and Killua wanted to jab him in the throat.

“At a frat party,” Meruem said, studying Killua. He could feel the guy’s eyes on him like the heat of buzzing, florescent lights. He tugged at the collar of his jacket as Meruem said, “Truthfully, I don’t quite understand relationships. Otherwise we might be dating instead.”

“Fat chance. I’d rather eat grass.” He fake-gagged on his finger before rolling his eyes. “That was two years ago. And what do you mean ‘_instead_’?”

“I have a girlfriend now,” he said in the same voice one might use to comment on the weather.

“No shit,” Killua said, eyes wide. He turned to stare at Meruem, whose ears were red from either the cold or the confession. “I didn’t know you were bi.”

“I didn’t know either.”

Killua hummed. He didn’t know what to say. If he was being honest, he didn’t even know Meruem was _gay_ until they were suddenly fucking in a frat bathroom—not the cleanest of places, by any means. Back then, Killua had a streak of Not Freaking Out after sex, so he and Meruem had a relatively lengthy period of being fuck buddies.But the instant Killua’s postcoital dysphoria ruptured in a fountain of tears, it felt too intimate for both of them—namely Meruem. Killua didn’t blame him for ditching. 

The guy wasn’t exactly a socialite. He was more or less awkward when he wasn’t deliberating hydraulics in his mechanical engineering courses. 

“That’s… good to hear,” Killua said. 

“Thank you.”

“Did you walk with us all this way just to brag about it?” Gon said. 

Killua jabbed him so hard in the stomach he crumpled to the side with a dying squeak. It was completely by reflex, and Killua didn’t realize it until Gon folded over his stomach and groaned. 

They paused while Gon caught his breath, at which point Meruem asked, “Are you two dating?”

“What?” Killua said, eyes wide. “N-No! No, we aren’t.”

“Oh.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Just an observation,” he said. “I noticed that you aren’t in my classes anymore.”

“Y-Yeah, I switched majors,” Killua said. He swallowed hard when Meruem continued to stare at him with those intimidating, crystal clear eyes. “To arts.”

“Arts,” he said, like he never heard the term before. “Why?”

“Had a mental breakdown end of freshman year. It was more of an existential crisis, but you know how it is,” Killua said. “I was already taking the foundations courses for it anyway.”

“That… is unfortunate. How are you feeling now?”

“Existential, but without the dread.”

“I was wondering if you wanted to help me with a project. We’ve been told we need it to be more… _aesthetically pleasing_, though I’m not quite sure I understand the word,” Meruem confessed, scratching the side of his face curiously. He frowned at something in the distance, which wasn’t all that odd. The guy had a perpetual Resting Bitch Face, but it made him look more like a Holister model instead of unapproachable. 

Killua squinted at him. _Nope, still looking unapproachable_.

“You’re just getting straight to the point, aren’t you?” Killua said, crossing his arms. They paused at an intersection where Killua glanced at Gon. The guy looked thoroughly constipated, staring at Meruem like he was gum at the bottom of his shoe. 

_I don’t blame him for feeling animosity towards Meruem—if things went differently, he and Meruem would be teammates_, Killua mused. He was familiar enough with football to know what sort of dynamic Gon and Meruem would have had, if Gon’s skull held up and didn’t concuss him a few times too many. They’d have the most interaction out of the entire team. It all depended on Meruem’s passes to Gon, and Gon’s speed.

But that wasn’t the case, now was it?

Meruem tucked his hands into his pockets and shrugged. “I remember you had really amazing sketches in your calculus homework. I was hoping you’d still be in the same major, but it’s not uncommon for engineer students to hire art students.”

“Hire?” Killua repeated, frowning. “Isn’t this… just a class project?”

“It’s for our senior portfolio show. We’re funded by companies.”

“Ah,” Killua hummed. “I’ll… think about it.”

“Do you still have my number?”

“No.”

Killua fished out his phone and Meruem took it. He added a new contact and dropped his name and phone number into it before passing it back to Killua to confirm. He saved it and waved his phone. “Well. Shitty doing business with you, as always.”

“It’s not that terrible, is it?” he said, and if Killua didn’t know any better, he’d think the guy was smiling. He wasn’t capable of smiling, not as far as Killua knew. 

“I hope you figure relationships out—for the sake of your girlfriend, I mean,” Killua said. The walk sign blinked on and traffic ceased for them, for the moment. Gon tugged on Killua’s sleeve, but he was stilled by Meruem’s next words.

“I think I’m figuring it out. The only reason I mentioned her was so you don’t get the idea that I still want to get in your pants.”

Killua flipped him off, and Meruem laughed as he turned on his heels and walked off, shaking his head. Killua’s pursed lips turned into a sly grin as he and Gon hurried across the street. Mostly to himself, he said, “What an asshole.”

Killua scoffed a little as he hopped onto the sidewalk and turned towards his apartment. Gon was on his heels, quiet, and Killua wondered if he was fuming about the incredible odds he squandered with a concussion. His concussion senior year of high school was, essentially, the reason Gon had his scholarship ripped out from under him. And now? Now Gon was spending over twenty grand a year on a university thousands of miles away from San Diego. 

_I wonder if he misses San Diego when he thinks about the scholarship_, he wondered, but instantly shook his head. _It probably reminds him of his aunt_.

At Killua’s apartment complex, he shrugged the Apple bag onto one shoulder and searched around for his keys. He let the two of them into the foyer where Killua hurried on up the steps. An inkling of guilt trailed after him, worried that he had opened up old wounds for Gon. The last thing he wanted to do was make Gon think about _that_ part of his life, when everything went to shit.

_Think of something to make him feel better_, Killua told himself, racking his brain. He didn’t have any weed on him. _Shit_. 

“I… don’t drink anymore, but I think I’ve gotta half-empty bottle of merlot if you want some?” Killua called over his shoulder as he approached his door. 

He nudged the door open with his hip. The instant he was over the threshold, his hips were yanked back by Gon’s hands. The door slammed behind them, and an instant later, Killua’s shoulders were shoved into it. The gasp that escaped him was caught on Gon’s lips, over his tongue and down his throat with a low, guttural moan.

Gon’s wandering hands palmed at his ass and the underside of his thighs. The bag slipped from his shoulder as Gon jerked him against his front, hoisting Killua’s knee to flank his thighs, his hips, as his fingers pressed into the soft skin beneath his knee. Killua let the bag slide down to his hand where he laid it in the entryway and let himself be lifted to Gon’s hips. He hooked his ankles and preened when Gon pushed him back against the wall of the entryway, rattling the narrow shoe rack beside them. 

Killua kissed him back with just as much force, biting into Gon’s lip and eliciting another moan in response. Killua’s toes curled when he felt the aching bulge of Gon’s erection through the fabric of their jeans. He started to unzip his jacket, Gon’s jacket, pull his shirt from over his head before dragging his fingers against Gon’s scalp. 

He panted against Gon’s lips as Gon dry-humped him into the wall and he thought, _I guess this is one way to cheer him up_. 

“C-Clothes—_off_,” Killua said, voice completely frayed by the heat sweeping through him. He almost didn’t want to come down, and his legs subconsciously clenched tighter to Gon’s waist. The friction was _too good_ to abandon, but it would be _so much better_ with lube slick on his thighs.

Gon stepped back only enough to set Killua’s feet on the ground, at which point he pinned Killua to the wall, his hands on the wallpaper, and his mouth on Killua’s. Gon’s tongue slid into his mouth and ran underneath his own, along his teeth. 

Killua’s undid the fly of Gon’s jeans. He yanked them down hard enough to pull his underwear with them. His cold hand clasped hold of Gon’s cock, and it brought a gasp up from Gon’s throat and a moment of clarity that sent Gon down to fetch his jacket as Killua worked on his own pants. 

Gon pulled a condom out of his wallet and a small tube from his coat pocket. He tore the packet open and rolled on the condom in the time it took for Killua to kick his jeans aside. Gon hooked his hands underneath Killua’s ass and heaved him back up. His erect cock warmed between Killua’s legs, and Killua trembled against it, cursing as he heard Gon uncap the lube and slick his fingers until they squelched with it.

“Do you want me to—” Gon started, and the saliva from Gon’s mouth cooled on Killua’s lips.

“Shut up and put your fingers in me,” Killua hissed, clenching Gon’s hair _hard_.

Gon squeezed two fingers into his ass. Killua let out a deep groan, gasping at the sensation. Gon worked him open, fingers scissoring, and Killua put his head back against the wall, nails _digging_ into Gon’s shoulders. Gon retracted his fingers and came back with more lube, enough to run down his thighs, and for Gon to rub his dick through it to wet himself. He humped against Killua’s ass, working lube onto his thick member before clutching onto Killua’s thighs, tighter, and saying, “You ready?”

“Fuck yes,” Killua breathed. 

When Gon slipped in, he thought he might melt to the ground and dribble between the floorboards right then and there. His half-hard cock was at full attention now and Killua couldn’t stop himself from shaking from sheer pleasure when Gon grazed against his prostate. 

Gon seated himself fully before twisting his grip on Killua’s legs. He pushed his elbows back, positioned his hands behind Killua’s knees, and spread him wide against the wall. Killua’s fingers dragged lines down to Gon’s biceps as Gon took the first full thrust against his prostate. “_Fuck_—yes—” Killua choked out, gasping as Gon took that one bit of encouragement to push him to the brink. 

Killua blamed it on the fact that they hadn’t fucked since Friday, but really, that was a lame excuse. In reality, he was horny and weak from that heated look in Gon’s eyes as he grunted like a goddamn animal with each thrust. Within a minute of grinding down on Gon’s hips, Killua was cumming hard, clutching his arms around Gon’s neck as he trembled, every muscle tightened by the release and loosening like elastic snapping out of place. 

Gon fucked him through it, and the oh-so sweet friction against his prostrate pulled Killua back from the unexpected high. His muscles felt like Jello and refused, for a minute, to obey him. Through that minute, Gon’s fingers bruised under his knees and Killua took to panting against his damp neck, tasting salt on his lips until his hands clenched tightly to Gon’s shoulders. 

His back left the wall, his skin sticky against it. Gon hooked his hand over Killua’s ass, the other arm securely tightly around his back. It didn’t feel like his legs existed until he squeezed them around Gon’s waist and hooked his ankles together, grinding down on Gon’s cock as Gon walked them, staggering, into the living area. He nearly tripped over a pair of shoes in the walkway and used a hand to steady himself against the wall before tipping over the futon armrest. Killua’s back hit the cushion first, and in doing so, Gon slipped out of his as and it left him feeling cold without the friction. 

Gon tugged him close, angling his dick back into position as he propped a foot on the rug, his knee on the futon, and one hand hoisting Killua’s leg up around his waist. Killua used the back of the futon for support as Gon rammed back inside, and Killua grunted at the force. The futon creaked against the wall as he pushed his foot into the wooden armrest and met each thrust Gon took against him. Killua’s knuckles turned white against the back of the futon. The sound of slick, wet skin slapping together blended with their breathy moans and panting. 

With his free hand, Gon tugged at Killua’s cock, his fingers catching precum at the tip. He pumped hard and fast the closer he came. He leant over, his shallow thrusts spinning Killua’s head in circles, and licked his tongue across the salty sweat on Killua’s neck. Killua put his head back against the cushions as Gon’s hips stilled against his, his dick sunk deep in his ass. He sucked at Killua’s neck and Killua felt his teeth catch on the soft skin just below the junction of his jaw. Gon bit down, and Killua felt Gon’s dick throb in his ass when he came. 

Gon stroked him through his orgasm, and soon, Killua was cumming over his stomach again. He felt his entire body seize up, stuttering, his nails digging into Gon’s back. He groaned against the sensation of Gon pulling out, and at the dull pulsing beneath his jaw. His eyes grew bleary when he relaxed, all of the heat flushing from him in one shaky exhale.

He rubbed at the side of his face, feeling sticky with sweat, and found Gon staring at him, one hand braced on the back of the futon, and the other at Killua’s hip. He didn’t even realize Gon had let go of his leg until then, when his hips touched the cushion again. 

“Was that good?” Gon asked, out of breath. 

Killua swallowed hard against the knot in his throat. It was manageable this time, and all it took was a moment to clear his throat before he could speak and said, “Yeah, it was good.”

“Was it—” Gon started, and Killua watched his Adam’s apple bob, his eyes flit between Killua’s. “Was it better than Meruem?”

_Please tell me he didn’t just say that_, Killua thought to himself, horrified. He blinked his eyes fast and whispered, “Excuse me?”

“Is sex with me better than it is with Meruem?”

Killua stared at him for as long as it took his throat to knot itself up again. _Shit_, he thought, _and here I thought I could handle it this time_. When he tried to bitch Gon out, all that came out was a squeak before his lip was quivering, every muscle in his body quaking with fatigue. 

Gon got up quickly. “Let me get you some water! And clean you up—don’t move—”

Killua caught his hand before he could get too far. He sat up, leaning over the edge of the futon with a hand to his knee. Gon turned to him, eyes wide, as tears streamed down Killua’s cheeks. He didn’t bother to rub them away as he said, “What the fuck’s wrong with you?” 

“What? I want to take care of you,” Gon said, but the statement didn’t sit right in Killua’s chest where his heart beat soundly against his ribcage. 

Perhaps Gon didn’t know, but Killua knew. Gon’s question had the answers written all over it. “Do you _want_ me to have a breakdown? Is that it?” Killua hissed. “You _know_ I’m sensitive to multiple—! Be straight with me, Gon.”

Gon crouched down onto his knees and laid his hand over Killua’s white-knuckled fist around his wrist. Killua slapped his hand off as Gon said, “I really just want to take care of you right now, Killua—”

“No, you _like_ having me depend on you,” he hissed, rubbing his hand under his nose. 

He sniffed a little, shuddering as he moved to stand up. Gon tried to push him down, but they had a catfight over it in which Killua slapped his hands, Gon grabbed back, and in the end, Killua smacked him across the face just to be done with it. The knot in his throat had entangled all of his arteries by then. He thought he might die of a heart attack if Gon smothered him with his affections again. 

Gon held his hands up in surrender immediately. He looked downright terrified, but Killua didn’t give a shit.

Instead, he jabbed a finger at Gon and said, “I _don’t_ fuck with jealous assholes. Get out of my _fucking_ apartment, Gon.”

“I—! I’m not jealous—!” Gon cried. 

“I’m not even _into_ Meruem!” Killua screamed despite how much he wanted to do this _rationally_. They could have just had a simple chat about it over coffee or sushi—not the second after Gon made him cum two times in a row. 

Gon blinked at him, startled. Killua seethed for a second, a broken sob escaping his throat before he could stop it. “He’s got a fucking _girlfriend_, Gon! You don’t have to worry about him because A) We aren’t dating, and B) _We’re not FUCKING dating!_”

“But—”

“You have to understand that this? Whatever the _hell_ this is? Doesn’t involve _you_ shoving your _dick_ all up in my personal business. You—!”

“Stop putting words into my mouth!” Gon cried, throwing his hands over his head. He folded his arms over his hair and said, “You and Kurapika—! You both think you know me better than I know myself and it _pisses me off—_”

“That’s because the signs are so obvious—you’re just so goddamn oblivious!”

“Killua—”

“You either need to back the fuck up or—or else I can’t sleep with you anymore, Gon. This is _basic_ fuck buddies fundamentals here, I don’t know what more you need to know to get it through your _thick skull_.”

“What’s so wrong with me _wondering_ about your life? And I worry about you—I worry about all of my friends! Why do you have to make it so complicated?”

Killua stared at him, watery eyes wide. He turned away with a dry laugh, passing a hand under his reddened nose as he scoffed, “Me? Making it complicated?”

“Yes!” Gon cried, throwing his arms down. “I still wanna be friends with you and friends are interested in that kind of stuff! Doesn’t Zushi know all about Meruem? Or whoever else you…” He drifted off, searching for a word he didn’t want to say out loud. 

Killua swallowed hard and said, “‘_Fucked_’, I think is the proper term here. And _yeah_, Zushi knows, because he was _there_ during that whole _shit storm._ You _weren’t_, so _I_ get to decide what the Hell I tell you about it, and the details of our sex life is _not_ on that list.”

Gon said nothing. He dropped his gaze to his hands, but Killua could tell that he was _far_ from defeated about this topic. Killua tried to sort his scattered brain, but all he wanted to do was bundle up in a blanket until his brain decided to stop reliving this exact moment over and over again until it shut down indefinitely. Amidst the rubble, though, he decided one thing: That he needed to find a way to get Gon to back off. The guy wasn’t ready for a relationship—_clearly_—and he didn’t answer well to reason. 

“Look,” Killua sighed, and Gon lifted his eyes, hopeful. “If you can’t… _back off_, I can’t do this shit with you.”

“What do you mean?” Gon said, wide eyes now filled with terror. 

“I _mean_ that I can’t keep having sex with you if you keep treating me like… like I’m _your_ responsibility. I’m not, Gon. I’m not… yours.”

Gon bit his lip and nodded, awkwardly. Killua was now very much aware of the fact that he was still butt naked and covered in his own semen. He really, _really_ wanted to take a shower.

“O-Okay. Yeah, I’ll… respect your boundaries. From now on,” Gon said. 

Something about Gon’s agreement shocked Killua. He hadn’t expected Gon to jump on board so quickly, or for him to be confronted by a truly terrible realization. Before he could dwell too much on it, he said, “Good. Now leave before a whoop your ass.”

At this, the severity of the conversation subsided at the tug of Gon’s cheeky grin. “Oh really? Will you spank me?”

Killua growled through his teeth, “_Gon_, I swear to _God_…”

“Alright! Alright, I’m going,” Gon said, hopping towards the entryway. He grabbed his discarded clothes along the way and Killua waited until Gon was fully clothed and at the door. He watched, half-hidden by the kitchen divider, as Gon tugged on his gloves and opened the door. Gon hesitated at the threshold, acting like Killua _wasn’t_ completely naked and in need of a shower. The door was wide open. “Are… we okay then?” Gon said. 

Killua wanted to tear his hair out. “Yeah, we’re good.”

“Are you sure?”

He laughed and threw his hands down, exclaiming, “_Yes_, Gon, now close the fucking door!”

“Alright! alright, Jesus,” Gon said, smiling as he swung the door shut. Killua hurried to it and locked it, but not without glancing through the peephole to watch Gon’s back recede down the stairwell. 

Killua turned back around, let out a shaky sigh, and rubbed hastily at the tear tracks on his cheeks. He made it to the bathroom, turned on the fan, the shower head, and grabbed a towel for himself before he was ground to a shrieking halt. 

Killua rubbed at his chest where his heart was barely restraining itself. "Fucking Hell," he whispered under his breath. 

Gon’s quick acceptance certainly did _one_ thing to fuck with Killua’s brain, and it was this:

That he was _far_ too deep in Gon Freecss. 


	10. Advice For Being A Dumbass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killua requires assistance, so he goes to Kurapika—again.

The jarring realization that Killua was into Gon Freecss (in more ways than one) changed his perspective on a lot of things. Having the hots for Freecss did that to a person, but this was different. This was more than just hormones, which only compounded on this distressing news. For what could a man do, when he developed feelings for the guy that was dicking him with no strings attached?

_Right after I made my point clear as well_, he thought, thoroughly disappointed with himself. He figured this was… the better option. Even if he and Freecss didn’t work out, at least he hadn’t jumped headfirst (or rather, dick first) into a relationship with Gon Freecss. The guy was about as emotionally self-aware as a goddamn plant. 

To top it off, they had yet to decide what to do on Friday. 

Killua had a hunch that Gon didn’t want to film, and he gathered that from the fact that their sex tape was no longer in the running. Gon had officially unqueued it from his account. Still, that didn’t change the fact that Killua was more than 110% down to film a sex tape, which was a lot more than the general population could say. 

“I think we’ve got another situation,” Killua confessed that Thursday in the snow, standing on the cusp of the campus mall area. 

Beside him, Kurapika was smoking weed from a pen and annoying the students with the stench of it whenever they passed by their vantage point overlooking campus. The outdoor platform connected to the second story of the student union was generally known as a smoking spot—for tobacco, not weed.

Kurapika handed the pen over. Killua took it and wiped the end of it before putting it to his lips for two, short puffs. “Also,” Killua said, coughing a little, “why is it that every time we hang out we have to be high?”

“Because I can’t tolerate most people sober,” Kurapika said, snatching the pen back with a scowl. He touched it to the corner of his mouth and glared ahead. “You don’t want to see me sober.”

“Of course. I don’t know why I questioned it,” Killua said sarcastically. 

“Anyway, the situation.”

“Ah, yes, the situation…”

“What is it.”

“I don’t really remember…” Killua confessed, tapping a finger to his chin. Kurapika glared at him for as long as it took Killua to remember what the situation was. “Oh! Right, the situation.”

He leant back against the railing and sighed. Kurapika flapped his arms around and hissed, “What the hell is it, dude?”

Killua grimaced a little and said, “I think I like—”

And then, off in the distance, “Killua?” 

Killua blinked, startled, and turned in the direction of the student union building. There, at the open door, stood _Zushi_. Killua brightened with a smile, threw his arms out, and waved Zushi over. As soon as Zushi was within hugging distance, Killua smothered him with all of the hugs. 

“H-Hey, man, are you high or something?” Zushi asked, laughing. He gave Killua one pat on his back before stepping back, a hand on Killua’s shoulder to hold him off. Killua just _really_ wanted to grab his friend and squeeze the Hell out of him. 

“Moderately,” Kurapika said, white smoke curling from his lips. Snowflakes were now peppering his braided blonde hair. He put a hand out and said, “Kurapika, Killua’s therapist.”

“He’s joking,” Killua told Zushi, who nodded hesitantly and took Kurapika by the hand. “You’re not my fucking therapist. And this is Zushi, we’re in the same major and also best friends.”

“I don’t remember being upgraded to Best Friend status,” Zushi confessed with a bow. “But I’m flattered. Mind if I take a hit?”

“Sure, man,” Kurapika said.

As Zushi took the pen, his fingers turned red in the cold before he was done with his second hit. When he passed it back, he tucked his hands away, breathing smoke between his lips.

“So what were you gonna say,” Kurapika said, gesturing to Killua.

Killua stared at him and gestured discretely to Zushi, who looked between them as they fought silently with vicious stares. Eventually, Zushi said, “I really don’t give a shit. You can just say it.”

Killua groaned, hands flopping down. What was the situation? Oh, yes, it was the pieces scrambled in his brain that he was now picking up bit by bit and assembling into words. “I was _going_ to say… that I think I… like Gon.”

“Like… _Like_ like him?” Kurapika said, squinting. 

Killua shuffled awkwardly and nodded. 

“Who… Who’s Gon?” Zushi said.

“Killua’s fuck buddy,” Kurapika said. Killua threw his arms up in frustration. 

“Oh! The vampire!” Zushi said, pointing to the state of Killua’s throat. The two bruises Zushi had poked at before were now yellow, but there were more, beneath his jawline, where Gon had bit him when he came, balls deep in Killua’s ass.

Killua rubbed a hand over the marks. It seemed the scarf did little to disguise the ones that were higher up. “_Yes_, the vampire,” Killua said as he scowled at Zushi. “And it’s a problem because I _literally_ just told him to back the fuck up. He was getting… clingy and weird.”

_If weird… summarized the fact that Gon intentionally fucked me through my refractory period just so that he could take care of me when I had a meltdown_…

Definitely weird.

Killua shook the thought from his head with a grimace.

“I don’t think Gon’s ready for a relationship,” Kurapika confessed.

“How do you know Gon?” Zushi asked.

“Oh, I’m his manager.”

“_Kurapika_,” Killua seethed, eyes wide. The last thing Killua needed was for Zushi to know he was fucking a porn star. There was no telling which videos Zushi saw of Retz’. Perhaps he already knew what Gon’s face looked like. It was all dangerous territory that Killua did _not_ want to traverse.

“Manager for what?” Zushi asked, sweetly oblivious.

At that point, the student union door opened again, and Killua thought he might die when he caught sight of Gon-fucking-Freecss emerging from it. Gon held the door for some smokers heading back in, which was lucky of them, because the instant Gon walked over, saying, “Hey Kurapika, I got your text—” Zushi screamed so loudly he choked, bright red, and half-collapsed against the railing.

* * *

“Why didn’t you _tell me_ you were _screwing_ a _porn star?!_” Zushi sobbed, a complete and total mess in the student union bathroom approximately twenty minutes after the incident. “O-Or that a porn star was even _at Yorknew!_? These are things I must know, as your Best Friend. It’s in the _contract_.”

“We don’t _have_ a goddamn _contract_, Zushi,” Killua seethed, clutching the edge of the bathroom sink. 

Zushi splashed water over his face, shook his head, and went to the towel dispenser. The red had faded and was now replaced with a ghostly sheet of white, which was alarming, because Zushi had a dark, olive complexion most days. But today? He was all over the spectrum.

“I’m not _obligated_ to tell you that I’m… _whatever_ with Freecss.”

“_Freecss?_” Zushi squeaked, lips trembling again. “Oh, God, that’s so close to his stage name.”

Killua sighed, rubbing at his forehead. “Yeah, which is _why_ you can’t tell anyone, alright? Or that… I was in his latest video—but that’s besides the point.”

“You were _what?!_” Zushi screamed, shrill with both horror and amazement. He scrambled frantically for his phone from his backpack. “I need to watch it—”

Killua jumped him and tackled the phone out of Zushi’s hands. “No! No fucking way, dude. Besides, didn’t you _promise me_ that you wouldn’t watch anymore of Retz’ shit?”

“Aw, that was so long ago, though. I thought you forgot about it!” Zushi whined. 

Killua put both hands in the air, holding the phone out of Zushi’s reach. Zushi hugged him around the torso, fake-sobbing. Killua rolled his eyes and let Zushi get all of the drama out of his system before Zushi was reeling back, gasping. Killua startled at the abrupt shift.

“Wha—”

“Wait, so you were talking to Kurapika—about… Do you _actually, like_ like Freakss?”

Killua clenched his jaw so tight, it was a miracle he didn’t shatter his teeth. His jaw ticked as he cleared his throat, looked at his feet, and said, “Yeah, I guess. It’s just shitty because I only realized it after telling him to back up. It was getting too… _personal_.”

“Personal how? I didn’t think porn stars could get personal.”

Killua looked up to glare at Zushi, who smiled innocently even as Killua said, “They’re people, you know. Of course he’s got feelings.”

Zushi held his hands up in surrender and said, “I know, I know. It’s just weird, you know?”

“Not especially.” He crossed his arms, Zushi’s phone still in hand, and leant back against the tiled wall of the bathroom and shrugged. “But in terms of personal, he was just sort of… trying to cross boundaries that I didn’t want to cross. For example, Gon meets Meruem and not even half an hour later, the guy’s fucking my brains out and asking if sex with him is better than ‘sex with Meruem’.”

Zushi half-stumbled, arms out, and collapsed with his back against the wall. He sort of slid to the ground and gathered his bearings down there, where Killua could see him trying to unpack _all of that_. Unfortunately, though, The Gon Freecss Package was big enough to warrant half a million followers on HUNter.

“Whoa,” Zushi rasped, shaking his head.

“I know.”

“How was it?”

“How was _what?_ Being asked to compare Gon to my freshmen year fuck buddy?”

“_No_, you idiot, having his dick so far up your ass he was fucking your brains?” 

Killua laughed, shrugged, and scratched at his hair. “If you, uh, need to _gauge it_, it kinda hurt to walk after that one. But only for half the day.”

“Whoa.”

“I know.”

“He sounds jealous,” Zushi said.

“Yeah, he was intimidated by you the first time he saw you.”

“He _saw me?!_ When?! Did I look good?” Zushi screamed, lunging to his feet. He clasped a hand to his throat, horrified that Freecss might have seen him in his pajamas or something.

“It was after Art History that one day, when I said I had a Greek History project to work on.”

“Yeah, ‘_Greek History project_’ to ‘_work on_’,” Zushi mimicked in a snobby voice. Killua snickered. “I bet it involves _huge_ spears and—”

Killua groaned to drown out the rest of it. He slapped both hands over his forehead and, likewise, Zushi’s phone. “Will you _ever_ shut up about Freecss’ dick?”

“Maybe some day. Hey, it’s been a while since I stopped talking about _your_ dick—”

The bathroom door opened. Zushi cut off with a squeak, and Killua turned to find _thee_ Freecss standing there, holding the door wide open. Zushi’s entire face went blood red and every word he was about to say shriveled up and died on his tongue, which had fallen with his jaw to the ground. 

Gon looked between them with a false smile that probably looked drop-dead gorgeous to Zushi. “Are we talking about Killua’s dick, or are we grabbing coffee or something before your next class?”

“B-Both,” Zushi rasped, a hand clasped to his throat. He cleared it. “But, uh—first—Killua, my phone.”

“What? No,” Killua said, hoisting it over his head. Zushi whined and reached for it. “No! You’re gonna _abuse it_ like you do our _friendship_!”

“As if! That’s all on you, you- you- _albino_.”

Killua kicked him in the shin. Zushi shrieked and it echoed off of the bathroom walls. Killua was too distracted by it to realize that Gon had reached over and was now yanking Zushi’s phone out of his hand. All three of them stilled, but Gon was the first to kick back into motion by meeting Killua’s eyes and passing the phone to Zushi. 

Zushi took it, cradled it, and instantly unlocked it. “The _reason_ I needed my phone back,” he started with a pointed glare in Killua’s direction, “is because there’s a photo going around of Gon and Retz with someone at the Times Square Apple store. Ring a bell?”

He pulled up the picture and held it in front of Killua’s face. Killua staggered, blinking fast, as Gon leant over his shoulder to inspect the picture. By that point, Retz had already put the sunhat in place, but Killua had turned to ask what it was about. The photo barely caught his damn nose in it (thank God) but unfortunately, it was hard to mistake his hair for being blonde against the rim of the hat. There weren’t many people with hair _that_ white.

“Shit,” Killua sighed, a hand over his eyes. “Well, so much for no one knowing who the Hell I am.”

“It’s not that bad. You can barely tell if you’re a guy or a girl in this photo anyway,” Gon said, gesturing to the fact that Killua was wearing a women’s _sunhat_ in the photo. No matter how much he benched at the gym, though, Killua could never outgrow his lean, semi-lanky physique. It tended to come across as feminine from afar.

“Yeah, but _Zushi_ knew who you are in the entire _second_ he saw you in person,” Killua said, and Zushi shrugged, unashamed. “I imagine there’s _someone_ in our Greek History class who knows about your career. If they see the photo, they’ll put two-and-two together.”

“That’s a _massive_ stretch,” Gon said, hands in his pockets. “And besides, I’ve already talked to a fan from Greek History class. We’re under a loose agreement not to discuss it—and also for her to not take pictures of me without my consent.”

“Wow, that’s reassuring,” Killua deadpanned. “And anyway, when did _that_ happen?”

“Start of the semester. Third or fourth class? I can’t remember,” Gon said, tapping a finger to his chin. 

“Did you fuck her too?” Zushi asked, eyes wide, a note of dread in his voice.

Gon squinted at him. Killua rolled his eyes and said, “He doesn’t fuck _everybody,_” only to backtrack, turn to Gon, and say, “Right?”

“If I did, I wouldn’t hit it raw with Retz for content,” Gon said, as if it was obvious. Killua thought he might die of embarrassment, and Zushi was already half there on the cusp of a full-blown heart attack. 

“Well, on that lovely note,” Killua said, clapping his hands, “I need some goddamn caffeine and a therapy session. Zushi, I’ll see you later for perspective drawing.”

Zushi’s eyes were still stuck on Gon. “You’ll see me _buried_ six feet in the _ground_ before then.”

Gon quirked an eyebrow. Killua shoved his hand into the guy’s shoulder and herded him out of the bathroom, leaving Zushi behind to come to terms with just about _everything_ Killua just threw at him. Before long, they were out in the hallway and Killua was sighing like he just ran a mile. He put his hands on his hips, cleared his throat, and said, “No promises, but I don’t think you have to worry about Zushi.”

“In what way?”

“Outing you to all of Yorknew?” Killua said, confused as to what else there _could_ be.

Gon hummed and didn’t look at all concerned. “I wasn’t worried,” he said.

Down the hall, they found Kurapika lounging in an armchair by the lobby. He was sitting in it entirely wrong—his back to one armrest and his legs strewn over the other. When Killua and Gon approached, Kurapika put an elbow back against the armrest, turned, and looked up at them. “I was getting worried that Killua was committing a murder while we waited here.”

“That is absolutely what I just did,” Killua said. “Zushi’s fine, I need caffeine, let’s fucking _go_, bitch.”

Kurapika swung his feet off of the armrest and onto the ground, much to the annoyance of the person sitting next to him, typing away at an essay. They glowered at Kurapika’s feet as they careened past, and continued to glare as Kurapika proceeded to lead the way out of the student union. 

On the way, Gon said, “Coffee’s on Killua to day, and by Killua I mean me because I still have some of your money.”

“You _literally_ just bought me a laptop,” Killua said. 

Gon shrugged and Killua took a moment to process this. Killua’s earnings from the video, it seemed, were still growing. He hadn’t checked it in quite some time, but he could only imagine what the total was. The HUNter pay model and video tiers were both complex and effective for luring in paying members. The video Gon posted of the two of them was just over fifteen minutes long, which meant that Gon was given permissions to make only the first half of the video free for the public—the glass dildo. The second part—the vibrator—was blocked out only for subscribers and one-time payers. The total wasn’t significant, but Gon didn’t have many videos over ten minutes as it was. 

Ergo, many longer videos increased the odds of longterm subscribers. A single, long video increased the odds of more profit off of one video.

He already knew that Gon’s subscriber platform had grown from the video, but there was no way for him to know about the one video’s profit without looking into Gon’s analytics page. He didn’t have access to that.

“So what are we doing for the video on Friday?” Killua asked, and at this, Kurapika slowed and fell back into line with them, thoroughly intrigued.

Gon laughed and said, “We aren’t filming another video.”

“Why the Hell not?” Killua said, shrugging. “The first one did well, and if you aren’t gonna post the second one, we’ll do something else.”

“I just… don’t want to,” Gon said, but the lilt at the end of his statement suggested there was more. He was cutting off what he really wanted to say, and Killua wanted to smack it out of him.

“Does it have to do with you disabling comments?” Kurapika asked. Gon looked over with a scowl, and Killua thought, _Nice, we’ve got him_.

“I don’t want to talk about that,” Gon said.

“You’re a fucking _HUNter_, dude,” Killua hissed under his breath, and Gon looked away with a sigh. “You’d think you’d be _over_ what people comment.”

“But—It was your first time on camera and—I just didn’t want you to see what they were saying about you,” Gon insisted. 

“I don’t give a shit if they were criticizing my camera skills,” Killua said.

“It—! It wasn’t that!” Gon insisted, dropping his voice. They paused at an intersection, and Gon dragged a hand through his hair before leaning in and whispering, “I feel responsible for my audience, alright? And when they say stupid shit about how they want to_ fuck you_, I have to censor that. And I feel like the second video would give them permission to _keep_ thinking that they can say shit like that about you.”

There were a lot of things Killua could say to that. He could swoon into Gon’s arms and say, “_Thank you for protecting me, Knight In Shining Armor_.” He could say, “_Damn, those hoes be thirsty_.” But did he say any of that?

Of course not.

Instead, he said, “I could just fuck you instead if they’re so desperate.”

The instant it came out, the bottom in him was screaming. What happened to living life on the edge—of Gon’s dick? He spent three years of his college career perfecting his power bottom energy, and this is how his brain repayed him? Granted, it wasn’t like he was an _Exclusive Bottom_, but he wasn’t _verse,_ either. He wasn’t fully opposed to the idea of fucking Gon, either. 

That idea just… never occurred to him until that moment Gon and Kurapika stared at him and the walk sign blinked on. The student near them seemed to hurry her pace away from them and across the street.

Killua slapped a hand over his forehead and started across the street. “Forget I said anything,” he said.

Kurapika jogged after him, saying, “No, wait, I want to hear more about this plan you’ve got for making Gon a bottom.”

“There is no _plan_,” Killua insisted, waving his hands about as if _that_ would clear the air of his ridiculous idea.

He caught up to them, bounding up onto the curb, arms swinging. Killua couldn’t so much as raise his eyes from where they were focused intently on his shoes, cheeks bright pink. When he could manage to meet Gon’s eyes, he found the guy looking at him, and quickly looking away as soon as their eyes met.

Gon scratched his head and said, “Yeah… I don’t think I’m comfortable enough doing that. But, I mean, that might change eventually, but… not right now. Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Killua said, shaking his head. The last thing he wanted to do was force a _porn star_ to do something he didn’t want to. Everyone had boundaries, and taking dick seemed to be Gon’s. The guy had limits, but they stretched few and far between if his exploratory HUNter profile was anything to go by.

They forgot about the conversation soon after—at least, it never came up in conversation, and Killua had to assume that Gon had banished the idea far from his mind to never be revisited again. Killua, on the other hand…

Couldn’t stop thinking about it.

_Shit_.

Friday came, but given the state of things, Killua found it weird that they _scheduled_ a time to _fuck_. Wasn’t it supposed to be _spontaneous?_ He thought about how awkward it was to schedule something like that when there wasn’t a video to record. He understood scheduling it if they had plans to record—Gon had to set his recording equipment up, the microphone, the camera, the studio lighting. They couldn’t be entirely spontaneous with recording a video.

And, so, that Friday after their professor ended the lecture, Killua stood up, stretched, and hooked his hands behind his head. “If we aren’t recording a video today, I might just head back to my place.”

Gon paused, his notebook half-in his backpack. He looked up at Killua as Killua slid his new laptop into his backpack and zipped it up. Killua met his eyes and shrugged. “I like regular sex to be spontaneous, I guess.”

“Oh,” Gon said, his wide, childlike eyes still stuck on Killua. He looked down, visibly swallowing as he zipped up his backpack and said, “I… guess that makes sense. What’re you gonna do instead?”

“I don’t know,” he confessed. He really hadn’t the slightest clue. His mind was cycling through images of him fucking Gon and he refused to catalogue any of it for the Spank Bank. He cleared his throat, pocketed his hands, and said, “Zushi invited me to a house party. Some music thing. I might go to that.”

Zushi was always getting invited to places and parties. It was one of the reasons why Killua had been wasted all of freshman year—from party after party with Zushi, whose liver was stronger than Atlas considering it held up all of college thus far.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, and usually if I go, Zushi uses it as an excuse to get _mega_ wasted ‘cause he knows I’ll walk him back to his place or get us an Uber. So mostly it’s just babysitting and listening to shitty SoundCloud rappers.”

“Where… is it?” Gon asked, and Killua was stupid and told him.

So Killua really, _really_ shouldn’t have been surprised when, later that night, he and Zushi bumped into Kurapika at the party. 

The party was at a townhouse in Astoria that covered the basement and ground floor illuminated by cheap neon light strips and blacklights bought off of Amazon. Since freshmen year, house parties made Killua feel like he was confronted with a meal that, when last consumed, gave him godawful food poisoning. He grimaced at the sensation of peoples’ clammy, sweaty skin on his arms as he followed Zushi through the hallway to the back porch. He'd only been at the party for ten minutes, not even, when he found Zushi downing his this fifth shot of tequila. 

“You’ve gotta stop thinking you're immune to alcohol poisoning," Killua told him, because he could tell there was already something in Zushi's system that was making his steps wonkier than usual.

“Not immune—I just like to _challenge God_... on occasion,” Zushi drawled. 

Killua put a sturdy arm around Zushi's shoulders as they emerged past the living area to a wide stretch of windows overlooking the street. There, to Killua’s surprise, he recognized a particular blonde braid.

Kurapika was leaning up against the railing when Killua nudged open the patio door and stepped through, taking Zushi with him. Killua stared at Kurapika’s profile for a painful moment until Zushi, blitzed out of his mind, giggled and said, “Hey! It’s Freakss’ manager!” 

At this, Kurapika turned, a joint between his lips. He plucked it out and blew smoke off of the railing as he said, “Well, how ‘bout it.”

“What’re you doing here?” Killua said, throat twisted tight. He stepped closer to the railing, fully aware that Zushi was all but clinging to his arm to keep from tipping straight off of the porch and onto the concrete. 

Kurapika surveyed him for a second before turning around, shrugging, and leaning back on the railing. “I was bored. Also, why’re you sober?”

“What makes you think I’m sober?”

“The fact that you’ve questioned me _twice_ in the minute you came out here says enough,” he said. 

Killua sighed. It was true—he’d _been_ stressed since Meruem, and it didn’t help that he was sitting on an entire text conversation with Meruem. He left the guy on read a day ago and had the audacity to feel _guilty_ for it. He didn’t mind Meruem’s company, but… it took a _particular_ type of person to put up with his analytical bullshit.

“Fair enough,” he said. “Is it just you here?”

“Nah,” Kurapika said, ominously.

Killua nodded as if he understood Kurapika completely. He did, in fact, understand the guy as perfectly as if he had told Killua the facts straight. 

His theory that was hardly a theory at that point came true the instant the patio door opened and a familiar, chipper voice called his name. Kurapika gave Killua a plastic smile and turned away. Killua turned on his heels, smiling, and said, “Hey… Gon.”

“Fancy seeing you here,” Gon said, glancing down at Zushi, who was back to staring at Gon as if Gon was the only man worth staring at. “You and Zushi.”

“I literally told you about this party,” Killua said, dully.

Zushi gasped and whispered, “You invited Gon to the party.” 

Killua groaned and said, “I did _not_ invite him to the party,” but it was too late. They had all decided the opposite.

“Wow,” Kurapika breathed out into the chilly, night air. Meanwhile, Gon took an idle sip of his drink as he watched Killua’s brain implode before their very eyes.

"That's it,” Killua decided. “I need something strong. Kurapika—”

“Who do you think provided the edibles, dumbass,” he said. Killua couldn’t have been happier. 

“Jesus fuck, thank the Lord,” Killua said, throwing his hands up. When they swung back down, one went to the patio door handle and the other went for his wallet. 

Gon stopped his hand and said, “Hang on—let me pay for it.”

“Yeah right," Killua scoffed.

“It's technically your money,” Gon said, and behind them, Zushi squealed like a goddamn school girl. 

Killua glared at Zushi before turning to Gon and groaning, “_Fine_. Cough it up, mister.”

Gon forked over an entire two twenties and a ten, which Killua snatched, shook in Gon's face, and walked off with it. He folded it up in his hand as he returned to the heat of the party and the overwhelming number of people flocking the basement stairs. 

Killua wove his way down the steps. There were people lining the walls, the railing, sitting on the stairs as the music dispersed across the building. His brain was drowned out by the bass, and the guitar strumming in his ears from the speakers posted throughout the room and all the way back to the mini bar where Killua inquired about edibles—he practically screamed it over the music. 

The bartender shouted the price and the THC level per piece, and since Killua had enough, he gave the guy two twenties and was soon wealthy with rich, dark chocolate edibles.

They came in a plastic baggie, which he immediately popped open and tossed a chocolate nugget into his mouth. It tasted… surprisingly good, for something infused with the smell and taste of ass. It went down rough, though, and the taste of shit clogged his airway for a hot second, trapped in the overwhelming crowd of people listening to the band. He cleared his throat, coughed a little, and started back up the stairs and out of this hellhole. 

The stairwell was lined with bright blue LED lights that glowed green on his face and white on his hair. He paused at the landing to finish off his third chocolate. It’d take a while to get the full effect, but his tolerance was high after a few years of doing this routine—so he popped another one in, sealed the plastic baggie, and saved the rest in his back pocket. 

He’d feel it soon, no doubt.

And feel it he did, approximately forty-five minutes later, give or take, when the weed in his system hit him like a train wreck.

Since he was on Zushi Watch, he followed the guy back to the basement and, likewise, Gon and Kurapika followed at their heels. There was a door off to the side of the basement that went off to the building’s laundry room, which connected to all of the other units. The door was wide open, so Zushi slipped right through with a cute, “Oopsie, pardon me,” to no one in particular. Killua kept the door from smacking Zushi in the face and glanced over his shoulder where Gon was, stopped by a clump of girls off to the nearest edge of the bar top. 

Kurapika trailed after Killua to the laundry room where they found Zushi already sitting on the stairs to the other units. There were a few stragglers back here, most of them talking quietly underneath the distant hum of the speakers pulsating through the thin, apartment walls. 

Killua took a seat next to Zushi with a sigh, and Kurapika claimed the stair below them. It was colder down here, mostly because the next landing up had an open door to the streets. Zushi swayed to the music, gently bumping Killua's shoulder, the wall, Killua's shoulder, and so on.

Killua pushed up the sleeves on his bomber jacket and leant over his knees. 

The nonexistent timer in his head ticked to forty-five minutes.

His skin started to feel tingly, like static. He distinctly felt the need for ramen, or maybe that pizza joint at the other end of campus that tasted _amazing_ when he was high, but was actually shit when he was sober. The tingling sensation traveled to his limbs, like balloons inflating and making him feel like every motion would send him floating to the sky...

“Holy shit,” he whispered, holding onto his head to keep it in place. Kurapika turned around as he said, “That chocolate’s _strong_ as hell.”

“How’re you feeling?” Kurapika asked, his voice miles away and echoing closer and closer until a minute later Killua could answer the question.

“I want ramen,” he said. 

“Ooh, ramen sounds tasty,” Zushi said. He looped his arm through Killua’s and gave him a light shake, reminding Killua that he couldn’t float away if Zushi was hanging onto him. “Take me with you! Where are we gonna go?”

“Lemme check,” he said, pulling out his phone. 

He turned it on. He immediately forgot about the finger print unlock option and went straight for the passcode, which flew out of his brain as soon as he pressed the first number. He tapped his phone to his chin, deep in thought, but without the phone in his field of vision, that, too, fell off his radar. What was he doing again? Oh, right, ramen. Where was there ramen? He better check his phone—where’s his phone? Oh, right! It’s in his hand.

It took another minute of Zushi coaching him to unlock his phone. When they succeeded, Killua gasped so hard he nearly choked, and lapsed into a giggling fit when Zushi fell back laughing at him. Killua dropped his head to Zushi's knee before popping back up. Zushi poked the map icon on his phone screen, which would have taken Killua _days_ to find in this state.

“What're we doing,” Killua whispered, a hand clasped over his lips as Zushi typed, ‘_ramen_’ into the search bar.

“We’re getting food,” Zushi whispered back. 

It was so nice of Zushi to think about Killua’s current state of hunger that he could have cried, but he didn't. Instead, he hugged Zushi and said, “Best friend.”

“That's my name, don't wear it out,” Zushi said. “Now give me your phone so I can get the directions.”

“You two are _not_ going out alone like that,” Kurapika said, reaching over to take the phone. Zushi whined whine Killua stared at them both with owlish eyes, his cheek pressed to Zushi's shoulder. Zushi’s sweater was _so soft_ and smelled like Zushi’s signature cologne. “I’m in charge of navigating. So what's it gonna be, Magic Noodle or Haikyu?”

Killua giggled and said in a cheeky, pouty voice, “Magic Noodle."

The door to the basement opened then and with it came a bright guitar riff and the sight of Gon Freecss stepping through. Kurapika was standing now, Killua's phone in hand, and when Gon found them, Killua’s heart flew all over the place and up into space. 

Because Gon looked oh-so scrumptious in those skinny jeans and that leather jacket. 

“What’s goin’ on?” Gon asked, glancing between Killua and Zushi before at last settling on Kurapika. 

“Killua's been hit hard by the craving train so we’re getting ramen and _you_ are helping me babysit these idiots,” Kurapika said, gesturing to Killua and Zushi. 

“I don't need to be baby-sat,” Killua argued, pouting and kicking a foot out at Kurapika. The momentum of it had him feeling like he was a centimeter away from slipping straight off the stairs. He didn't want to be coddled over like a baby, but of the things that needed sitting, it was his ass on Freecss’ lap and that was that.

“Understood…” Gon said, slowly. He reached over and set his solo cup on top of the washing machine nearest them. “I’ll…”

“You take Killua, I take Zushi,” Kurapika said before jabbing a finger in Killua’s direction. “But you gotta promise me that you’ll be a perfect gentlemen.”

Killua perched his hands on his knees, stuck his chin in the air, and said, “I will be perfect gentle-man.”

Zushi snorted and fell back laughing again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He will be per fect gentle man.
> 
> LOL so much happened in this chapter, what was your favorite part??


	11. I've Eaten Nothing But Doritos, Couscous, and Pasta For The Past Three Days Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killua makes a Snapchat buddy and a startling revelation at 4AM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll change the chapter title later lol just know this isn't proofread so sorry for any obvious typos and awkwardly timed character introductions.

** T**he ramen tasted like heaven and salt on Killua’s lips and he _couldn’t get enough_. He scooped up a dollop of crinkly noodles onto a shallow, porcelain spoon painted white with blue flowers. Pinched between two chopsticks, he pulled it up to his tongue and slurped them up with a delighted sigh. 

They were sitting at the bar stools nearest the shop windows, overlooking the dimly lit street outside feathered with snow. Killua’s feet couldn’t touch the ground, so he swung them forward and back against the stool spokes as he drank up broth that thoroughly warmed his insides. Under the yellow, tungsten store lights, he was at peace. 

“I’m so happy right now,” he said, crossing his legs at the ankles. He turned to Kurapika, who was typing away at his phone. “Thanks for bringing us here.”

“Wow, a thank you? From Killua I-Don’t-Say-Thank-You Zoldyck?” Kurapika droned. 

Killua stuck his tongue out at him and went back to his bowl. “I just really like ramen,” he said. 

Zushi sat next to him on one side, and Gon was at his other shoulder, swiping through Snapchat stories that reminded Killua that they were, in fact, _in public_. The photos on Gon’s phone were risque, to say the very least, and Killua couldn’t stop staring at them when he finally realized what Gon was doing. They were mostly of women—people he’d collaborated with, or wanted to—and their stories were filled with lingerie sponsorships and girls licking dildos with plush, pink lips. 

“We’re in _public_,” Killua hissed at Gon. 

Gon glanced at him, and then over his shoulder, at the empty ramen shop. They were far enough from the front counter that the workers couldn’t see from around Gon’s broad shoulders. Gon turned back around and shrugged. “It’s fine,” he said, and swiped ahead to the next story.

“You’re shameless,” Killua giggled. “Who puts that shit on their stories, anyway?”

“They’re all premium accounts,” Gon explained. 

When Killua rose his eyebrow, Zushi leant in and explained, “People pay a monthly fee to get access to those accounts. If you screenshot, you’re banned from the account for life and don’t get a refund.”

“That’s… kind of genius,” Killua said, rubbing a hand under his bottom lip where broth dripped. He licked his finger and said, “You should make one of those, Gon.”

“I already have one,” Gon said. 

Killua stared at Gon’s reflection in the storefront window. Gon was looking at him, at Zushi, whose chopsticks fell into his ramen bowl. Kurapika was still typing away on his phone. Hesitantly, Killua cleared his throat and rasped, “You… already have one. How come I didn’t know about it?”

“My Patreon is pretty lowkey,” Gon confessed with a slight smile. “Only certain tiers get you access to the Snapchat account.”

“I… see,” Killua said, clearing his throat. “So when I asked for your Snapchat earlier in the year… and you said you didn’t have one—”

“I lied,” he admitted with a guilty smile. “If you… _wanted_ to add me _now_, you could. I don’t mind.”

Killua thought long and hard about it, mostly because he was high and wanted to milk the crap out of Gon’s Snapchat without paying a dime. The rational part of his brain—the _moral_ part of his brain—knew he had to pay for it. He should, after all. It was Gon’s _livelihood_ he was exploiting. 

He shook his head. “No. No, I’d rather pay for it.”

“And _why_ the hell would you do that,” Kurapika droned from down the counter. Killua turned to look at him. Zushi was slurping on a Coca Cola, eyeing them all curiously and with a vague sense of wonderment. “Gon’s offering it for free.”

“But that’s, like, it’s _work_. It’s like asking your art friends to draw a portrait of you and not paying ‘em for it.”

“It’s literally just artistic dick pics that take three seconds to take and a minute of prep,” Gon said, and Killua slapped a hand to his forehead, refusing to look at Gon. Not when his cheeks were red as tomatoes. 

“_Fine_. Whatever. Just… know that if you want or need me to pay, I will,” Killua said as he unlocked his phone and navigated to Snapchat. The fact that he could manage that much was impressive, because his brain was stuck cycling around the fact that Gon had a Snapchat dedicated to servicing an entire fanbase that wanted pictures of his dick. 

Not many guys could say that.

Gon switched to his camera and scanned Killua’s code. A moment later, a notification slid onto Killua’s screen. 

* * *

01:24 _Freakss added you!_

02:53 _Killy Willy accepted your friend request!_

**Freakss Story**

45m ago

\- _Uploading…_ -

5h ago  
\- _A photo of Gon holding up two shirts side-by-side. He’s wearing a white tank top and the caption reads, “Which one?” -_

5h ago  
\- _A photo of Gon shirtless, eyes cropped out of the shot, head turned, smiling. Captioned: “Well, if you all insist on nothing at all _ 😘 _” -_

17h ago  
\- _A video of Gon singing in Spanish in the shower, dragging his hand down the side of his body. The camera pans down, down, but his crotch his censored by the eggplant emoji. He brings the camera back up with a finger to his lips and winks. Captioned: “See you tonight _ 😉 _” _-

**Killy Willy’s Story**

4h ago  
\- _A video parting through a sea of people. He arrives at a table where Zushi is taking one shot, two shots, three shots to the encouragement of a chanting crowd. The camera flips around to a thumb angle of Killua looking annoyed as all get out_. -

* * *

  
****

Before Killua ever had the time to accept Gon’s friend request, he was going on a two hour high and needed a pick-me-up. After leaving the ramen shop, he popped another chocolate in his mouth and decided he could go for another two, just to be safe. He could feel Gon’s eyes on the back of his neck like a goddamn laser. When he turned, though, Gon’s eyes were elsewhere and his hands were in his pockets. 

“I’m kinda sleepy now,” Zushi confessed with a yawn. “I might head back to my place.”

“Do you need me to walk you?” Killua asked, but he knew that Zushi would be better off without Killua getting confused about directions and feverish about his phone’s dwindling battery. 

“I’ll be _fine_,” Zushi said with a drawl, smiling. He leant back on his heels and sighed. “Honestly, I kinda sobered up during that ramen. Put me straight to sleep. I’ll see you on Monday?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Killua said, and waved as Zushi said farewell to Gon and Kurapika before booking it across the street and jumping over the slush beside the curb. 

Killua watched him go before turning pointedly to Kurapika. It was all up to Kurapika, if anything was bound to happen, that is. Somehow, Kurapika knew just what to do.

He raised up his own phone, gave it a good shake, and said, “I’m calling us an Uber.”

“To where?” Gon asked.

“Well, first Killua’s place, and I’ve got a booty call to attend to, and then wherever you gotta go,” Kurapika said. 

Killua blinked. _Booty call?_ he thought, _but Kurapika seems above all that. He’s got such an ethereal glow about him_. But of course Kurapika had _needs_, right? The guy was drop-dead gorgeous with a killer resting bitch face. Anyone would be lucky to spend the night with Kurapika—Killua included.

He shook his head. _No, I’m not on the list_, he chastised himself. 

It just brought the image to mind of—

_No, stop thinking about that!_ he thought, a hand to his hair.

Someone’s fingers grazed over the back of his arm. He shivered at the touch, gentle through the thick fabric of his coat. He turned and found Gon standing there, smelling like sandalwood cologne and looking like an absolute snacc in his leather jacket, as always. Killua's mouth went so dry, he couldn't swallow. 

Gon’s brow furrowed and he asked, "You good?”

Killua tried to clear his throat, but it just sounded pathetic. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, his voice an entire three octaves lower. He wasn’t fine, though, because he was approximately two seconds away from jumping Gon in the middle of the street.

Gon nodded, as if he understood, but _how could he understand?_ Killua was plagued by the idea of pinning Gon to the nearest wall and sucking him off right then and there. Act normal? He'd rather shove his hand in Gon’s pants and lick the cum off his fingers. 

But there they were, chilling out underneath the ramen shop awning, waiting for the Uber to arrive. 

Killua tapped his foot impatiently, arms crossed over his chest. _Fuck_, now that he was thinking about it, that glass dildo was _phenomenal_. He wondered how much it cost. He wondered if… Gon would notice if it went missing? But they weren’t going to have sex, not tonight. It was technically the same night that they planned to fuck shit up once again, and that just wasn’t Killua’s vibe. No, he wanted something out of the blue, out of the ordinary. 

Like screwing in the back of an Uber. 

He bit his lip. 

_Oh Hell yeah_, he thought to himself, his brain on a tirade forking off here and there and everywhere until his thoughts were so scattered and disjointed, he was wondering how much a ticket to California cost just so he could ride Gon’s dick on a public beach. 

Killua was so goddamn stoked it was like Christmas Day when the Uber arrived. He flew to the back seat while Kurapika claimed the front. Killua slid across the bench and waited, impatient, for Gon to _get the fuck in_ because _didn’t he realize what was happening?_ The main event of the night—

Gon ducked into the back. 

He shut the door. 

Before he could buckle up, Killua slid to the middle seat and his hands immediately went to Gon’s fly without thinking twice about it. Gon stilled, hands still raised, eyes wide as he stared at Killua for the entire ten seconds it took for Killua to work Gon’s zipper down.

At which point, Kurapika snapped his fingers and said, “Not in the Uber.”

Killua’s heart plummeted so fast he thought he might throw up. He didn’t. “But—”

Kurapika turned around while the Uber driver stared helplessly ahead, putting the car in drive. “Do we need to switch seats, Zoldyck?”

Killua huffed and slumped back against the seat, his shoulder pressed to Gon’s. “_No_,” he pouted, irritated. He scowled at Kurapika, who gave him one last stare before pegging Gon with a scowl. Gon shrugged and put his hands down, over his lap, and Kurapika turned away. 

There was soft music playing on the radio as the driver took them around back streets to get closer to campus. Killua scowled ahead until the exact moment he jumped at the touch of Gon's hand on his upper thigh. 

Killua turned to stare at Gon, who kept his eyes out of the window as he said, “Hey, Kurapika, who’re you seeing tonight?”

His fingers grazed higher. Every inch of Killua’s skin he passed over trembled, and he felt the tingling sensation on his flesh all but vibrate, threatening to turn him into a puddle when Gon squeezed the sensitive skin of his leg, just beside his hardening cock. Killua bit his lip, knees clenched tight, as Gon dragged his thumb along the “v” line of his hip bones. 

In the front seat, Kurapika sighed and said, "Some guy I supply for. I've been waiting for him to make a move. _I’d_ make the move, but A) I didn’t know if he was straight or not, and B) it’d be kind of manipulative of me to put a client in that situation, you know?"

“Yeah. What if he asks for a discount?” Gon asked, massaging around Killua's dick, but never on it. Killua was shaking with the desperate need to rip his pants off. He clutched at Gon’s arm and wondered if Kurapika could hear him breathing like an asthmatic smoker on life support, because that's what it sounded like to him. He tried desperately to keep himself _under control_ but _holy shit_, what he would give to flatten Gon on the backseat of the Uber and jerk off over him just so he could cum all across Gon’s perfect leather jacket. 

His face felt _hot_ by the time the Uber driver pulled over. Kurapika and Gon’s conversation was cut short by Gon saying, “I’ll make sure Killua gets in alright. Don’t worry about me.”

“I wasn’t gonna,” Kurapika said. 

Gon propped open the door and his hand left Killua’s lap. Killua could barely move. He didn’t want to get up, and he wished he could blame it on being couch locked, but instead it was just his rock hard erection constrained in his skinny jeans. When he slid over, he mostly flopped around before rolling out onto the curb where Gon straightened him up, shut the door, and got them moving to the front stoop of the apartment complex.

Killua moved like his feet hovered several inches from the ground, trailing after the delicious smell of Gon’s cologne, the hot salty texture on his neck, and the distinctly sour smell of arousal in the air that told Killua that it _wasn’t just him_. In the cold of the New York winter, it was all crisp on his sensitive nose as he nestled against Gon’s thick black hair while Gon weaseled the keys out of Killua's pocket and unlocked the inner door of the lobby.

“_Hurry_,” Killua groaned, nibbling at Gon’s neck.

Gon laughed, ducking his head to the side when Killua hit a particularly ticklish spot. “I _am_, hold still,” he said, squeezing an arm around Killua’s waist. Killua shivered as Gon pushed the door open, and warmth seeped out to meet the cold. 

Gon walked him up the stairs until Killua all but slumped at the thousandth stair—it was only the fourth stair, but he couldn't move. He wanted his clothes _off_, so he started with his jacket until Gon tugged it back on, zipped it up, and said, “Wait until we get to your apartment—”

“_No_,” Killua whined, kicking his feet as Gon heaved him up, twisted around, and hooked Killua’s arms around his shoulders and neck. He put his hands beneath Killua’s knees and hoisted him up, much to the discomfort of Killua’s erection against Gon’s lower back. 

Gon held him up as he climbed the steps to Killua’s apartment. At the door, Gon released one arm from underneath Killua’s knee, which Killua let slide until his toe touched the ground. Half-on Gon's back, Killua moaned at the friction in his jeans, tightening his thighs around Gon’s narrow hips. When the door opened, Gon reached down and hoisted Killua back up onto his back so he could cross the threshold without being groped. 

Gon slipped his shoes off as the door swung shut behind them. He locked it, turned around, and gently lowered Killua down. The instant Killua’s feet touched down, though, he was hugging his arms around Gon’s torso, rubbing his fingers down to Gon's hips, and tugging him back against Killua’s front with a breathy sigh, saying, “_I want you_."

Gon slipped his leather jacket off his shoulders and slid it out from between them as Killua closed his lips over Gon's neck and against the collar of his floral-printed t-shirt. He leant back into Killua’s hold, his hand coming up to comb through Killua’s hair. Killua rubbed his hand over Gon’s crotch, undoing the button, the zipper, and slipping his hand into the heat beneath the elastic waistband of Gon’s boyshorts.

Killua rolled his hips against Gon’s ass, stroking his hand over Gon's half-hard cock. Gon groaned before clearing his throat and saying, voice hoarse, “Take your clothes off and we can—”

“I want to fuck you,” Killua breathed into the back of his neck, dragging his thumb up to the tip of Gon’s dick and skimming his fingers against the hot, sensitive skin beneath it. “I want to—I want to know what you feel like around my cock—see how long you last—”

“O-O_kay_—yeah, not tonight,” Gon said, and took Killua’s sudden hesitance to his advantage. He snuck out of Killua’s grasp, tugged Killua’s hand out of his pants, and began to lull him past the foyer. 

When his clothes came off and his back hit the mattress, Killua lost sense of the time—every lick of it, quite literally. The sensation of Gon’s soft, wet tongue under his cock, leading down to his hole—_entering him_—had Killua’s entire body turning to putty. He couldn’t breathe without moaning, his back arching, his fingers threaded deep in Gon’s hair. It was all _visceral_ and _the sound of it_, of Gon’s tongue, of the lube squeezing out on Gon's fingers…

_Sweet Jesus, Mary and Joseph_.

And then, Gon was twisting his slicked fingers inside and _oh_—

And, then, Gon was grabbing him by the hips and flipping him. Killua gripped the headboard with white knuckles, his other hand cupping his crotch and stroking himself as Gon pushed in, inch-by-inch, and filled him up. Every thrust sent the headboard rocking against Killua’s hand when Gon set a quick, brutal pace against his prostate. 

He couldn’t quite fathom _what_ had happened after Gon had collapsed on the bed next to him, sweaty and panting, and Killua, likewise, bounced on the mattress and stared at the ceiling with an overwhelming sense of contentment. _That hit the spot_, he thought, breathless. 

The clock turned to the next hour as Killua melted into the bedsheets and became a relaxed puddle of his former self. Gon had long since fallen asleep after cleaning them both up, checking his phone, and dropping it onto the end table. He slept on his back, his head turned away, a hand stretched up and underneath the pillow. Evens sleeping he posed like a goddamn model.

Eventually, Killua’s bladder couldn’t take it. At around four in the morning, he pushed himself up onto his elbows and stared across the darkened apartment, illuminated only by the street lights between the slits in the blinds. His ass felt wet and slimy when he moved, sluggishly, off of the bed. He reached back to check for fluids—the lube should have dried by now—and his fingers came back damp.

In the bathroom he cleaned up the state of his ass and pissed, tossing the filthy tissues in with it. He took a solid few minutes washing his hands, mostly because he zoned out staring at the water as it bubbled between his fingers. His hands were pruny by the time he shut the water off and dried his hands, and when he found his phone, it took a few tries to unlock it because of that. 

He wandered to his closet in search of clothes. There, he half-heartedly put on underwear and sweatpants before snatching a blanket off of the futon to use as a cape. He sat there and slowly tipped to the side, his eyes bleary but far too awake to go back to sleep. 

Zushi texted him an hour ago to reassure Killua that he made it back alright. Killua sent him a thumbs up and swiped over to Twitter, where he scrolled for a while and got distracted by videos of cats. When he came back to himself, it was because Zushi had messaged back, saying, “_Awake this late? Better have been a good night ;)_” 

Killua rolled onto his back and opened up Snapchat. There, he paused at the notification at the corner of his screen. He checked it and found Gon’s friend request still pending. He accepted it and glanced over at the bed, where Gon had turned on his side, still fast asleep. 

Killua opened Gon’s story and smiled at the shower video. He kept the audio low, so he could still hear Gon singing. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t good, either. He tapped ahead to Gon shirtless in front of the mirror.

The last section of Gon’s story loaded and, with it, came the sound of skin slapping with Gon’s hips against his ass. Killua flattened his phone to his chest, eyes wide, but he could still hear his breathy moans through the speakers. _He recorded that_, Killua thought, and wondered why he didn’t know earlier? _Perhaps because I was fucked out of my mind_, he mused, resisting the urge to laugh. 

The video looped, so Killua brought it back up again and watched it over and over again. Gon’s phone camera was _good_, so good, in fact, that Killua could see the moons on Gon’s nails where his fingers were imbedded in the flesh of his ass, around his hips, his thumb pushing up to cup his hipbone. To Killua, it was obvious that Gon was fucking a guy, but that wouldn’t be the case for everyone. 

Killua skipped head to the next video, when Gon pulled out, dick wet with cum. White fluid dripped from his hole.

Killua dropped his phone off of the bed and put his hands over his face. _Jesus fucking Christ, he wasn’t wearing a condom_, Killua thought, and he wasn’t sure if he was horrified or simply hysterical from the high. He wasn’t particularly mad, but rationally, he knew he should have been. He knew Gon was clean, but that didn’t change the fact that _Killua_ had slept with plenty of guys in the past. He was horrified _for_ Gon. 

_I really should have gotten tested_, he thought, pushing his hands up to his forehead.

Now that _that_ was on his mind, he couldn’t stop thinking. He couldn’t stop his brain from jumping in circles around each of the guys he fucked in the past and wondering if any of _them_ tested. He always wore a condom in the past, though, and even when he was fucked up, he made sure his partners wore one, too. 

Annoyed with himself, he pushed up from the futon, head swimming, and went in search of something to do. His hands found his backpack, his sketchbook, and his tin of pencils.

He curled up on the futon in his blanket cape and started sketching. It started with a general outline of the windows, and then the bed, and then the end table, and at last, the shape of Gon half-under the blankets. His pencil scraped harder and faster with the lull of his brain on the brink of paranoia. What if he gave Gon something? What if he had something all this time and didn’t know it? The worst part was that he _knew_ he and Gon talked about it. He _swore_ he saw Gon take out a condom packet. When? He wasn’t sure. Was it before or after Gon ate his ass out?

He could hear the slapping of their skin reverberating in his head from the Snapchat video. It made his toes curl and his heart speed in his chest, pumping heavily against his ribcage. 

Whatever the case, he couldn’t bring himself to regret a second of having sex with Gon because _fuck_, was he desperate. He was so desperate, in fact, that the thought of even sleeping next to Gon had him feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. If he could sleep, he would, but alas, he felt restless and incapable of sitting still when his brain was on fire. 

Killua sketched as the sun rose and colored the buildings outside orange. The glow striped along the comforter that shifted when Gon moved, turning in Killua’s direction across the room. Killua darkened the shadows beside the bed, where the sheets were strewn haphazardly along the wood flooring. When he brought his attention back to Gon, he found Gon’s eyes open and sleepy, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips where those smile lines pierced arrows through Killua’s heart.

“Morning,” Gon whispered, stretching his arms up. “What time is it?”

“I don’t know,” Killua confessed, flipping his sketchbook closed. 

Gon flopped his arm off of the bed in Killua’s direction. Killua took the hint and stood, feeling more present with each step he took towards the bed. He could still feel the marijuana pulling on his limbs, insisting that he sit back down again and _relax_ a moment, just a moment. If Killua got into bed now, he was sure he wouldn’t leave it for the rest of the day. His eyes were tired and burning with exhaustion, but he felt awake as he let Gon tug at the waistband of his sweatpants.

Killua leant against the edge of the bed, a hand on the headboard. Gon leant over and kissed Killua’s hip and the soft skin below his belly button. Gon tugged Killua’s sweatpants down, just an inch further, and licked his tongue along the waistband of his boxers before leaning back with a lazy smile. 

“Are you done?” Killua laughed.

“Not _nearly_,” Gon said, arms over his head. “What’re you doing up?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he confessed.

Gon blinked a moment, straightened, and sat up a little. “Did you sleep at all?”

Killua shook his head. “Got a little paranoid, but it wasn’t too bad. But… did you—?” He cleared his throat, awkwardly, and felt the tension in the air like a thick cord squeezing his throat tight. His brow furrowed when the smile faded from Gon’s lips. “Did you wear a condom?” 

Gon’s eyes flitted between Killua’s. He straightened up, pulling the blanket off of his legs. “I… You said you were clean—? I get tested every month, you know that—”

“I said I was clean?” Killua said. Gon nodded, eyes wide. Killua laughed and it dissolved into a groan against his hand. “I’ve never been _tested_, dude. _Shit_.”

“Hey, it’s okay—”

“_No_, it _isn’t_,” Killua said, throwing his hands down. He could feel his heart beating a mile a minute, and it made his head dizzy. 

Gon got to his feet. Killua never would have moved had Gon not pushed up to his feet right in front of him, backing him gently away from the bed. Killua’s fingers felt numb. They were nothing more than solid, weird lumps against his forehead, against his scalp, as Gon looked him in the eyes.

“Dude, I think you’re still high,” Gon said. 

“I’m _not—_”

“Here’s what we’re gonna do,” Gon said, slowly, like he was talking to a child. Killua bit his lip to stop himself from screaming in frustration. He wasn’t a _child_, but he couldn’t tell Gon that _now_, not without sounding like one. “I’m gonna get changed and we’re gonna have something to eat, and then we’re gonna go straight to a clinic, alright?”

Killua couldn’t wait that long, but Gon looked like he knew what he was doing, so he nodded, clutching his hands to his forearms. Gon slipped away, grabbing his clothes as he went in the direction of the bathroom. Once there, he shut the door and left Killua to fret.

Their first stop after dressing for the weather involved stopping at a bodega down the street that sold fresh bagels with cream cheese and Naked smoothies. They ate as they walked all while Gon figured out their next destination—the clinic.

Killua had never been to a clinic for this purpose, and it made him nervous setting foot in the university clinic without an appointment. It was bright and early in the morning by the time they arrived, but by then, there was already a handful of people in the walk-in waiting room. Killua walked up to the counter with Gon, only to be told that he’d have to wait behind the rope, where he wouldn’t be able to see Gon’s personal information being written on the checkin form. 

He tapped his foot and rubbed at his arms as he waited, and then again after filling out the form when they were left to wait again. He sat on the edge of his seat. After eating, though, he felt less irritable and more… _lucid_. 

He pushed back, arms crossed, and huffed, “I'm such an idiot.”

“It happens,” Gon said, unconcerned.

“It doesn’t _just happen_,” Killua said, a bite in his voice that brought Gon's attention over to him. He scowled at Gon before scoffing, shaking his head, and saying, “So you listen when I tell you not to use a condom, but ya don’t listen when I tell you I want to fuck you?”

Gon’s jaw dropped a little. He glanced ahead at the girl on the seat across the aisle, who quickly looked away with wide eyes. Gon leant over his knees and whispered to Killua, "So you remember _that_ but not the condom part?”

Killua shrugged. He didn’t know how his mind worked, even though he spent every goddamn day stuck inside it. “I mean, _yeah_, ‘cause I _really_ wanted to fuck you,” he said, lowering his voice. 

Gon grimaced and shook his head. “I don’t—I told you I don't want to do that,” Gon whispered. 

“You’ve used _dildos_ before.”

“That—! That’s _different_,” Gon insisted, voice sharper now and tinged with annoyance. He glanced back to look at Killua, who narrowed his eyes.

“Are you _seriously_ still in denial?” Killua said, fully aware that the girl across from them was very much invested. 

He met her eyes once and flipped her off, only to have his hand smacked down by Gon hissing, “_Don't do that_! And in denial about _what?_"

Killua glanced at Gon in disbelief. Gon looked like he didn't know what the hell Killua was talking about. “Dude, about being _bi_,” Killua said. 

Gon rolled his eyes. “Just because I’m bi doesn’t mean I want to bottom.”

“How do you know you don’t like it if you’ve never tried it?”

“How did you know you were gay if you never tried pussy?” Gon said. Killua ground his teeth together and looked away. “Wait, have you?”

“_No_, I haven’t tried,” Killua hissed, furious. “That isn’t the same thing!”

“Yes it is!” Gon whisper-shouted, only to compose himself a second later and say more calmly, “It’s important to push boundaries, yeah, but only when you’re _comfortable_. And I’m not… comfortable. With that. At least not now.”

It took him so damn long to squeeze out that sentence that Killua felt his anger boiling over the edge by the end of it. Before he could explode like a volcano all over the waiting room, a nurse came out calling Gon’s name. 

Gon glanced over and smiled. “Hey Linda!” he said, getting to his feet.

“Nice to see you again,” the nurse said. 

Gon glanced back at Killua, like a goddamn dog asking for permission. For what? Killua was certain he knew. The rat bastard was asking for _forgiveness_, like he hadn't just shit all over what was now becoming Killua’s ultimate fantasy.

Killua glared up at him and said, “Call me when you’re ‘_comfortable_’, then. I like bottoming, but I’m not your personal fleshlight.”

It was a little dramatic—okay, _more than a little_, but the moment he said it, he felt that every word of it was true. Of course he liked bottoming. He was good at it and it _felt_ good, with the right guy, anyway. Regardless, it didn’t change the fact that he went the phases. When that happened, back in the day, he’d find different partners because self-proclaimed straight guys had Big Issues with anal when it involved their own asses. And when Killua was on a top kick, he needed that itch scratched or risked countless unsatisfying sexual encounters.

It wasn't that he felt unfulfilled with Gon—far from it, actually. He could go on taking Freecss’ dick up his ass all day every day, but it _irritated him_ that Gon wouldn’t even _try _when he _knew_ the guy had experimented with dildos before. He was certain he wouldn't be so fired up if Gon had never once shoved a glass dildo (albeit a small one) up his own ass on camera.

Killua was called in shortly after Gon. He got up, still pissed at himself, at Gon, and the girl across the aisle. She continued to look at him as he walked off and joined the nurse in the hallway leading to the checkup rooms. There, he answered all of the nurse’s questions with a straight face and wondered if she knew he was on the downward spiral of his high. Could they tell he was high on weed from the tests? Probably.

They did a physical exam before drawing blood, taking a swab in more than one undesirable place, and the test was concluded with a urine sample. He was grateful that he chugged that smoothie, but he knew that sample would condemn him for his absurd weed usage. 

“We'll have the HIV test for you in twenty minutes if you’d like to stick around,” the nurse said as she snapped off her gloves and tossed them in the biohazard bin.

He thought about sitting in the lobby with Gon after semi-publicly shaming the guy for not wanting to do anal. 

“I... think I might just wait for the other tests,” he said.

He walked back to the waiting room alone where he turned to the left and away from where Gon was waiting for him at the benches. Killua felt the white-hot, angry ball in his gut threaten to churn his insides into an uncomfortable sludge. _God_, he wanted to ass-fuck Gon so badly it hurt. Gon and his perfect, goddamn, internet-famous ass. He just—_God_—he just wanted to squeeze the crap out of Gon’s ass, maybe smack it a little, he wasn’t sure. All he was sure about, though, was how much he wanted to shove his dick in Gon’s ass.

“Killua,” Gon started, and by the sound of it, he was chasing after Killua on his way to the door.

Killua turned with a scowl. They were close enough to the motion-censored doors that they opened when Killua stopped Gon in his tracks with a murderous scowl.

Gon hesitated, dropping his hands to his pockets. “The… HIV tests should be done soon.”

Killua wanted to laugh. “Yeah, and I’ll find out when I get the other results back,” he said with a shrug. He crossed his arms and said, “And I’m sorry. Really, for being an asshole and telling you I’m clean or whatever. I shouldn’t have done that, high or not.”

“I know,” Gon said, “and I shouldn’t have listened to you, since you weren’t exactly… in your right mind. It’s on both of us, really.”

“Yeah.” He breathed out a sigh of relief, biting his bottom lip as he watched Gon’s eyes scan his face, his eyes. 

“Are we… okay?” Gon asked. 

“No,” Killua said, and at the startled look on Gon’s face, Killua stepped closer. They were far from the counter, but definitely within eavesdropping distance, so he dropped his voice low and whispered, “We aren’t okay because I want to know _why_ you don’t want to be pegged. Is it because you think it’s degrading? That you like being a top to—what? _Dominate me_, is that it?”

“Th-That’s never it,” Gon stammered, horrified. 

“Liking it doesn’t make me submissive or weak, Freecss, and that goes for you, too. I’m not gonna peg you to make you feel _inferior_, or whatever the fuck you’re thinking it’ll do.”

Gon said nothing. He stared as Killua paced away, heated and downright _furious_. In truth, Killua had never gotten worked up like this about something like topping a determined top. He never wanted to peg Meruem _this_ badly, so he never thought twice about going elsewhere for that shit and _damn_, was his bottom _good_. 

But he wasn’t going to go crawling back to his go-to rebound after unsuccessfully wooing a straight guy, because Gon _wasn’t straight_ and had orgasmed off a _dildo before_.

Killua paced back and pinned Gon with a finger to his chest, hissing, “If I’m gonna fuck you, it’s because I’d _love_ to plow your pert little ass all night. _God_, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since I offered because—if fucking me is so damn great, why the hell wouldn’t fucking you be amazing, too?”

Killua combed a hand through his hair, cursed under his breath, and turned to leave. His face was beet-red by the time he made it out onto the sidewalk because holy _shit_, he just said that—and he said it all to a _porn star_. He stood out on the curb, hands on his hips, and reassured himself that he wouldn’t go that far again. 

_You can’t just force someone to do anal because you’re being a whiney bitch about it_, the rational part of his brain said, but the horny part of him was chanting,_ WE. WANT. BUTT SEX._

The clinic doors slid open. Killua rubbed a hand over the side of his face and glanced back. He really, _really_ didn’t expect Gon to follow him out there, especially after five seconds had passed (the Five Second Rule applied to walk-outs from an argument, right?). But fuck it if Gon wasn’t standing right there, looking like an awkward teenager asking a totally-out-of-his-league girl out to prom. 

Gon looked at his feet for a moment before clearing his throat and saying, “I’ll think about it, okay?”

Killua scoffed, turning away.

“I’m serious. But—don’t give me a deadline for this, alright? Retz always said it’s… a good idea to only try things when you’re comfortable with them. Let me go through my own process, like what I did with… that sex toys stream.”

Killua studied Gon for a moment before asking, “How long did that take?”

Gon grimaced. “Palm, actually… gave me the idea back in July. It didn’t even cross my mind to seriously try it until August.”

It was November. Gon’s sex toy videos were from early October.

Considering sex was Gon’s thing, it felt like a long time for Killua. But from an outsider’s perspective, that flip was… relatively fast for a “straight guy”.

“Huh,” Killua said. He smacked his lips and turned away, saying, “Well, I’m gonna go…”

“See you in Greek History?” Gon said with a hopeful, wary smile. 

Killua rolled his eyes. “Duh. See you.”

With that, Killua walked off to continue about his day with two things on his mind: the STD test results and pegging Gon Freecss. He really couldn’t live like this, so at the next intersection, he debated his options and instead took a route that would take him far from his apartment and closer to his favorite, backup bottom. 

He texted the guy with cold, red fingers before pocketing his hands to warm them up. It was rude to show up unannounced, and when he came ringing at the apartment door, he was buzzed in a minute later with the sound of his buddy’s voice crackling on the speaker, saying, “_Well if it isn’t Little Miss Fuckface_.”

Killua rolled his eyes and pushed in through the door, his friend’s voice trailing after him and saying, “_You know, I outta block your ass, Zoldyck. This is the _last time_, you hear me?_”

_You say that every time_, he thought, grinning.

Killua jogged up the stairs of the apartment complex all the way to the fifth floor where, waiting in the doorway, stood the last possible person Killua would ever suspect of being a bottom. Killua swung up to the fifth floor with a devious grin, clapping his hands as his victim glowered at him, arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe. 

“Ikalgo… long time no see,” Killua said, biting his lip and trying to look innocent. Like he hadn’t left the guy on read for over a month. 

Ikalgo was a freshmen year fling and, likewise, a linebacker for the Yorknew football team. He was all top-heavy and beefy, but uncharacteristically sweet when he wanted to be (which wasn’t often). His dark skin was still golden from his summer tan.

“Well, well, well,” Ikalgo droned with a sigh, that East Coast accent bringing a grin to Killua’s lips. Ikalgo tipped his head to the side and said, “Ya looking _awfully_ guilty. Almost like ya spent all this time trying—unsuccessfully—to woo a straight guy into getting dicked.”

Killua put his hands out and said, “You gotta stop reading my mind.”

“It’s hard to break old habits. You out of _all_ people should know that,” Ikalgo said. He turned to the side in a subtle gesture for Killua to enter. He took the chance to hop over the threshold and slide into the apartment. 

Ikalgo followed after him as he sauntered to the kitchen. He left his shoes on as he turned and hopped back onto an empty patch on the counter. Ikalgo strolled up to him and clasped his hands to the counter’s edge on either side of Killua’s legs, keeping a safe distance between them as he asked, “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Killua tipped his head back against the counter, swallowed hard, and said, “I need your advice.”

“Depends on what advice ya need. If it has to do with getting good grades, making money, or—”

“No, none of that,” Killua said, laughing.

“—Having a good relationship with ya family…”

“Definitely not that,” he said, now smiling wide. Ikalgo grinned, straightening up and putting them eye-to-eye. The guy was so much taller than he was, which Killua found both impressive and intimidating the first time they met. And also sexy. “I need to know what convinced you to try anal for the first time.”

Ikalgo hummed, leant back, arms stretched out to the counter. He leaned back in and sighed, “You could’ve just texted me.”

“I was close by,” Killua lied. “But back to the question—Was it something I said or did or did you read something…?”

Ikalgo thought for a moment, lips pursed. At last, he shrugged a little and said, “I don’t know, really. I guess I got kinda tired of you begging and figured it was time to switch? And I mean, it’s only fair, I guess. That’s how I see it, anyway. But so far I haven’t had much luck in the girlfriend department. Ya’d be surprised by how many chicks _don’t_ dig pegging a guy.”

“It takes a special kind of person,” Killua agreed sarcastically, and Ikalgo looked like he was about to cuss him out. “Is that really it? Fairness?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Huh.”

“And also ya sent a couple of dick pics—unsolicited but very much appreciated,” Ikalgo said.

Killua narrowed his eyes. “I don’t remember that.”

“You were probably fucked up when ya sent them. Like when ya drunk text an ex, but instead it’s you, like, drunk-texting nudes trying to out-top a top.”

“What do nudes have to do with being a top?” Killua asked, only to hesitate when he realized that Gon made a living off of nudes. “Never mind.”

“Exactly,” he said. He pushed off of the counter and shimmied back with a spin and struck a pose like he was Michael Jackson. “If we aren’t getting _funky_, I gotta get ready for practice.”

“Shit, right, sorry for barging in,” Killua said, hopping off of the countertop. 

He waited for Ikalgo to grab his things, shrug on a coat, and tie his sneakers all while lingering at the front door with his phone in hand. He sifted through his messages from when Zushi woke up not long ago. He grinned at the screen as Ikalgo stepped up and asked, “How is Zushi anyway? I miss that guy.”

“He’s fine,” Killua said. “We were just at a part last night. How have you been?”

“The grind, ya know how it is,” Ikalgo said with a shrug as he locked the apartment door behind them. They jogged down the steps together, shoulder to shoulder, until Killua was forced to move when a resident came climbing up the narrow steps. 

He flattened himself against the railing beside Ikalgo, who was now sporting a duffle. The guy smiled like the innocent guy they both knew he wasn’t, and the neighbor was never the wiser. Ikalgo met Killua’s eyes with a grin and kept moving. 

“But _emotionally_ speaking… stressed beyond repair, but what else is new, ya know what I’m sayin’?” Ikalgo said. 

“Same here,” Killua confessed with a sigh. “I shattered my laptop not too long ago.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Yeah, right over my kneecap. Just straight up—snapping a branch at a bonfire, but instead of a branch it’s my laptop and instead of a bonfire it’s fall semester.”

“Oh, _shit_.”

“Yeah.”

“How’s the knee?”

“Better now. Still a little yellow,” he said, rubbing at it a little as Ikalgo pushed open the foyer door, and then the street door. Killua ducked under Ikalgo’s arm and stepped out into the fresh air. He stretched his arms over his head and said, “Yeah, and just now I was getting tested for STDs ‘cause I was an idiot and didn’t use a condom last night.”

“Holy _shit_, dude.”

“I know.”

“Your life, man.”

“Yeah.”

Ikalgo shook his head and said, “Well, at least you aren’t pregnant.”

“You know, you’re absolutely right. A strong, independent woman like me?” Killua said with a scoff. Ikalgo threw his head back and laughed. “In all seriousness, I just feel shitty for the other guy if I do test positive. You know?”

“Yeah. Well, best of luck to you and ya genitals.”

“Thanks man.”

He watched Ikalgo head in the direction of campus, but it wasn’t long before another thought came to mind and Killua jogged to catch up. “Hey, wait, I’ve got a question,” he said. Ikalgo turned and Killua caught his breath, saying, “Is it… true that Meruem’s got a girlfriend now?”

“Oh, yeah, she’s a sweetheart. Worships the ground he walks on, that whole schtick.”

“And he… treats her alright? Like, he’s actually _fit_ for a _relationship?_” Killua said. He was still in a state of shock over the entire idea. 

Ikalgo shrugged. “I dunno. You’d have to ask her.”

Killua had no intentions of doing that, but he lied and said that he might so that he could let Ikalgo go on ahead to practice without being questioned again. Killua rubbed the back of his head, sighed, and wondered if this was his life now, filled with drama, STD tests, and graphite staining his finger tips. He figured anything was better than the state his life was in a year and a half ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am stress and carbs right now, and when I am stress, I write a lot so here you go—the product of my suffering. When I am carbs, I am... emotion.
> 
> Someone retweeted this post about some chick who was bisexual but only liked girls half of the year and guys the other half of the year and so people kept calling her Bisephone (like Persephone) and so Killua's a Topsephone and I think that's beautiful.


	12. Brotherly Concerns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unwelcome relative comes to visit for unwelcome reasons.

**K**illua trudged back to his apartment feeling more or less desperate for a nap. He was past his twenty-four hour mark of being awake, and _damn_ was it taking its toll. It was because of this that he missed all of the signs.

The first sign was sitting out front of his apartment complex in the form of a red Maserati. 

The second was the fact that his apartment door was left unlocked.

The third was that someone had stripped his bed, cleaned his kitchen, and stacked his shoes neatly by the door—and it wasn’t Gon.

Killua dropped his keys on the futon and whispered, “What the fuck…”

He barely got his shoes off before he was interrupted by someone’s voice in his closet saying, “Welcome back.” Killua screamed like a banshee, tripping over his sneakers, and staggering up against the wall. In the doorway to his closet stood the goddamn creepy-as-shit girl from _The Shining_ with long black hair and everything. But instead of a girl, it was just his older brother.

“God _damn it_—I told you not to sneak in like that!” Killua cried, his heart aching in his chest from the fright. He clutched at it, eyes wide, and reached down to yank his shoes off all the way. He chucked them back into the foyer and said, “For Chrissake, Illumi—”

Illumi was folding a sweater up over his arm and snapping it out into the perfect shape of a square. He looked disinterested while Killua looked confused beyond belief. 

“Weren’t you in California?” Killua said, still clinging to the wall like _that_ would protect him from Illumi’s fury.

“I was,” Illumi said, looking up to meet Killua’s eyes. “Until I heard you were seeing a porn star.”

Several things occurred that did little to ground Killua’s fleeting reality. 1) Illumi took a flight from _California_ to _New York City_ because 2) he knew about Freakss and somehow knew that Killua was seeing the guy. “_Heard”_ though, didn’t necessarily mean _“saw_” so Killua could only hope that hearing was all Illumi was doing when it came to Gon Freecss. 

Killua cleared his throat. There was no point in denying it, since Illumi was so thoroughly convinced that he bought a flight to NYC to confront Killua over it. He took off work for this, spent money for this—not that money mattered to their family—and broke into his apartment for this. 

“That doesn’t give you the right to barge in here,” he said, awkwardly, and not as tough as he intended. 

“Of course it does. The last thing I want you to do is blow up your image by being in more of his videos.”

“_My_ image?” Killua laughed. “Clearly you’re concerned about the family image—”

Killua broke off. Illumi crossed the living room and Killua had the good sense to step back, against the edge of the kitchen with his back to the refrigerator. He swallowed hard, watching as Illumi’s unnervingly still eyes caught him in every lie he’d been telling himself. Of course no one would know it was him. He didn’t show his face, so why did it matter? There’s no way anyone could recognize him off of his voice, his body, the pixeled blur Gon put over his face in the mirror. 

“You clearly need more supervision here. Just because you moved across the country doesn’t mean you’ve cut yourself off from the family,” Illumi said. 

Killua grimaced. He had made himself perfectly clear by even _applying_ to Yorknew. If being a traditional artist wasn’t enough of a rebellion, enrolling to Yorknew University was the next best thing. “I’m twenty years old. I don’t need you telling me what I can and can’t do anymore.”

“I’m not going to let you make mistakes like this. Frankly, I don’t care who you screw as long as they aren’t making money off of it. You do realize what people will say when they find out the Zoldyck heir is _interested in sex work_.”

Killua was already bristling at the word ‘heir’. He’d rather eat _grass_. “I’m not—I never agreed to that,” he insisted, eyes stuck on the buttons of his brother’s perfectly pressed shirt. “I’m not interested in that corporate Hollywood bullshit. As if I actually give a shit what other people think—specifically what _you_ and _Mom_ and _Dad_ think.”

His voice was shaking by the end of it. He hated arguing with Illumi, especially when reason wasn’t his brother’s strong suit. Arguing with Illumi meant most likely, definitely, _absolutely_ losing the fight no matter how unfair it was. It made him angry beyond belief and, likewise, uncontrollably upset. Nothing could go his way, and maybe that was just Killua being a whiny, spoilt bitch, but he didn’t care.

“And just because I was in_ one video_ doesn’t mean I’m suddenly _in the porn industry_,” Killua said, throwing his arms up. “Where did you hear about it anyway?”

“Hisoka knows Freakss.”

_Hisoka_.

It’d been a while since Killua heard _that_ name.

Killua never bothered to keep tabs on the guy, but Hisoka had been a long term boyfriend to Illumi through grade school and was now, to say the least, a long term _ex_-boyfriend. It wasn’t uncommon for men of slight build to make a buck or two (or rather, _several thousand_) off of sugar daddy websites in LA. Hisoka’s loyalties were nonexistent and therefore, Illumi was put on the wayside and ostracized from the Zoldyck family. They really had just used Hisoka for the purpose of seeming like a loving family supportive of their eldest gay son—which was hilarious, considering they couldn’t be bothered to give two shits about Alluka.

Hisoka hadn’t been on Killua’s radar since he was a _freshmen in high school_. It was weird to think that was almost a decade ago.

Killua could only imagine how easy it would have been for Hisoka to slip into the porn industry, but the odds were too bizarre for him to bother entertaining. 

“H-How? I didn’t—realize you two still talked,” Killua confessed, brow furrowed.

“We don’t, but then he sent me that picture of you with Freakss and that BDSM slut, and then the video of you on Freakss’ profile,” Illumi said. He tipped his head. His expression hadn’t changed from the moment he set foot outside of Killua’s closet. “You really think I wouldn’t recognize your voice.”

Killua said nothing. His throat was closing up.

“And in regards to Hisoka and Freakss: The way I understand it is that Hisoka more or less… took Freakss under his wing.”

Killua’s head felt sluggish and numb. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

_My mentor hooked me up with a contract writer in Manhattan. My mentor_, Gon had said, more than once. Killua shuddered at the idea of it being Hisoka.

Illumi studied Killua for a moment before stepping away. He went back to the closet where Killua could see a hamper of freshly washed clothes on the ground. Among them were the bedsheets he and Gon had fucked on the night before, as if his day couldn’t get any worse. 

Silently, he went to make the bed, taking the fresh sheets from the hamper and carrying them to the mattress. All he really had energy for was the fitted bedsheet, so after taking care of that and struggling through the pillows, he rolled onto the mattress and stared hollowly ahead. _What a shitty Saturday_, he thought.

As if it couldn’t get worse, Illumi walked out of the closet holding up a pair of jeans. Killua looked up, already _so done_. From the back pocket of the jeans, Illumi plucked a plastic baggie—with the remainder of the edible chocolates in it. Killua groaned and put the pillow over his face as Illumi said, “I take it these don’t taste like literal shit because it’s dark chocolate.”

“Leave me _alone_…” Killua groaned. A moment later, the plastic baggie crinkled on the mattress next to him. He peered out, but Illumi was back to work and the chocolates were left to him—still sealed in the baggie, albeit misshapen from the wash. He really couldn’t care less about being poisoned via detergent, so he opened the baggie and popped a chocolate in his mouth.

Once a year Illumi had the bad habit of visiting Killua and taking over his life, and generally during those visits, Killua was forced to get a handle on his life. Freshman year it happened around his mental breakdown, at which point Illumi had, in a way, convinced Killua to switch his major. Sophomore year, Illumi had swooped in during Killua’s time in need that involved moving into his current apartment—a shit show that went smoothly thanks to Illumi’s help. Illumi always appeared when Killua needed help.

But Killua didn’t _need help_ right now. In fact, help was the _last thing_ he wanted from Illumi when it had to do with _his love life_.

* * *

“Is he in any of your classes?” Illumi asked as he walked at Killua's side down the brick-lined walkway to studio. 

Killua scratched the side of his face. From the sound of it, Illumi knew the basics of Gon Freecss: Yorknew student, California resident, major online sensation. The basics. “Uh… no, he isn’t. I’m in all art classes and he’s a business major.”

“Business.”

Killua glared at him and pushed open the door to the atrium foyer. “Well, this is where I’ll leave you, so you can stop following me—”

“I'll wait out here,” Illumi said. 

Killua sighed. Truthfully, as annoying as Illumi was, it felt… kind of nice to have someone waiting for him after studio was done. To walk him from Point A to Point B without asking tedious questions because Illumi _knew_ the whole gist of it. Despite the fact that Illumi couldn’t possibly understand Killua’s logic behind moving to NYC, he knew it and was fully aware of the state of their shitty family.

Their family was full of poetic writers and visionaries catering to the less-than-poetic public. Killua’s expertise might have been in the arts, but artistic words failed him more often than not. His grandfather was a famous name in the film industry after winning several Oscars for directing a film on the Civil War or something or other—Killua couldn’t care less because ever since then, Zoldyck became a household name like goddamn Spielberg. It was the sort of movie that played at one in the morning on TV and if you got hooked, you got hooked until three in the morning when the credits rolled. 

So yeah, finding out that Killua was shit at _expressing his thoughts_ on paper made the prospect of directing effectively _zero_.

And yeah, finding out that Killua was “dabbling in porn” was more or less a shit show for a family in the film industry.

After the quick studio session—mostly a checkin with the professor—they were on their way to… Greek History. Killua knew what to expect as they entered the lecture hall building, and Killua paused out in the hallway as Illumi asked, “How big is this lecture?”

“It’s… small,” Killua said, hoping Illumi would get the hint that he’d stand out as an extra if he shadowed Killua. 

But, then, the previous class came filing out and with it, hundreds of students. Killua bit his lip as Illumi raised an eyebrow. Once the hallway cleared, the students waiting near the door began to file in. Illumi stepped ahead and followed after them. Killua groaned under his breath, rolled his eyes, and followed his brother inside. 

The lecture hall was organized like a movie theatre—with a short hall with a wall that sloped on one side with the stairs leading up to the higher seats, where he and Gon usually sat. The instant the divider ended, they were at the front of the lecture hall staring out at the sea of seats. Killua took Illumi by the arm and dragged him to the far, _far_ side of the lecture hall where they sat near the middle. Out of the way, random, and unlikely to be noticed by Gon.

Illumi pulled his hair over one shoulder and began to braid it as they waited for class to start. He had one ankle propped up on the opposite knee, relaxed but poised. 

As Illumi braided his hair over one shoulder, Killua pulled out his phone, lowered the brightness, and discretely texted Gon the situation at hand. The last thing he needed was Gon barging over like he had in the clinic waiting room. Granted, Killua had been high and more or less dramatic, but _still_.

Shortly after sending the text off, he pulled out his laptop and readied his notes for the day. As he was formatting his document, Illumi nudged him in the arm. Killua glanced over and stopped at the sight of Illumi holding his phone out to Killua—with an exact replica of Killua’s text conversation with Gon saying, “_Relative in town. I’ll be sitting with him during lecture today. DO NOT COME OVER HE KNOWS WHO YOU ARE_.”

Killua slapped a hand over his face and groaned. “You have to stop getting my iCloud password from Milluki,” Killua said, beyond annoyed.

“You said he wasn’t in your class though,” Illumi said, all matter-of-factly. Like he expected Killua to slip up somewhere along the way.

“I don’t fucking care, alright? You may think it’s your business, but I _don’t need your help_ getting my hormones in check,” Killua hissed at Illumi, much to the misfortune of the students nearest them. Thankfully, there was a murmur in the lecture hall from the sheer amount of people. No one was the wiser. 

Illumi shrugged. Killua’s love life wasn’t _Illumi’s_ fault, Killua knew, but it was _Illumi’s_ fault for reacting to it. 

“We both know bad habits die hard,” Illumi said. “Take Milluki, for example.”

“I am _far_ from the family embarrassment if that’s what you’re thinking,” Killua laughed darkly, shaking his head. “Milluki’s more of a pig than I am. At least I’m not _open_ about fucking porn stars.”

“I feel our definitions of ‘open’ differ. I would consider viral video footage of you and Freakss ‘_open_’.”

Killua spread his knees, gestured crudely to his crotch, and said, “Open like this?”

Illumi nudged his knee away, effectively closing his legs. “You’re being ridiculous. I preferred it when you were sleeping with the football team, if I’m being entirely honest.”

Killua rolled his eyes away from Illumi and towards the lecture hall entrance. There, he caught sight of Gon-fucking-Freecss standing there, searching the lecture hall and _Shit_, Killua thought as he pulled his sweatshirt hood up over his white hair. It was too late. Bleached hair wasn’t exactly _easy to hide behind_. 

Gon spied them from across the lecture hall and started walking in their direction and holy _shit_, Killua thought his heart might give out right then and there because the last time he saw Gon, they were getting tested for STDs and Killua had cussed him out in the middle of the clinic waiting room for not wanting to get dicked. And there Gon was, acting like nothing had happened and climbing the stairs to the middle row where Illumi’s eyes followed him every step of the way until Gon was standing right in front of him, sticking out his hand, and saying, “Hey, you must be Killua’s brother. My name’s Gon.”

“_Gon_,” Killua seethed, furious. He tugged on the hoodie strings so hard, all they could see was his eyes, which were wide with horror. _Shut up and leave, please, I beg you_, he thought.

Illumi stood up.

He eyed Gon’s hand and probably thought of everywhere it had been—namely, Killua’s ass—and declined the invitation. With Illumi now effectively blocking Gon’s path to Killua, Killua couldn’t see the look on Gon’s face when Illumi said, “If I see you so much as breathe in Killua’s direction, I _will_ destroy your entire online platform overnight.”

“_Illumi,_ oh my _God_,” Killua groaned, mortified. One of the students in front of them turned at the threat, looking equally horrified.

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Oh, do you now?” Illumi said. “Would you prefer to test that theory?”

“Illumi, shut the fuck up and sit down,” Killua hissed, heat swelling to his face when his brother didn’t listen. He reached over and grabbed Illumi by the back of his jacket and yanked—_hard_. 

Gon said nothing as Illumi reluctantly sat down, leant back, and crossed his arms. 

“I can’t imagine Killua’s worth the twelve grand you make for your education,” Illumi said, and Killua would have rather died than hear those words fly out of Illumi’s mouth and straight into Gon’s eardrum. How _Illumi knew_ was beyond Killua, but he figured it had something to do with Hisoka’s interference.

Killua felt his skin crawl, shrivel up, and turn to dust with a shudder when Gon said, “How can you say that about him?” in the most pained voice Killua had heard from him.

Illumi rolled his eyes and looked up at Gon with a dull stare and said, “Am I wrong, though?”

“Gon,” Killua said. Gon’s eyes didn’t leave Illumi. “_Gon_, just _go_. I’m fucking serious.”

Gon glanced in his direction, fists clenched at his sides. He took a step back from Illumi, hesitated, his feet stuck to the carpet under their feet. Killua shivered despite the heat in his face, the speed of his heart, the sweatshirt underneath his jacket. Gon shut his mouth tight, lips pursed, and turned on his heels. He all but stormed up the steps, several rows above them, and Killua looked over his shoulder to watch Gon shove his backpack to the ground and drop into a seat near the stairs, arms crossed, eyes on the back of Illumi’s head. 

Killua turned back around, heart rising up his throat like bile. He caught Illumi looking at him from the corner of his eye, so he tugged on the hoodie strings to close the hood like blinders, narrowing his vision to the front of the lecture hall where he wouldn’t have to bother with Illumi.

Killua spent the entire lecture with a tight throat and sore eyes. He wasn't sure why he felt so… so… _angry_ to the point of being _emotional_. He didn't like being out of control like this, but he'd given up control to Illumi before. Why was it different _now?_ He didn’t want to change any of the other times but knew he had to. He didn't want to change and didn't have to _now_.

He was just being greedy.

Maybe Illumi was right—Killua _was_ pushing it this time. Just when he thought he had his life in order as well. Well... as in order as it could be.

At the end of lecture, Killua shut his laptop, his eyes flitting to the stairs where he caught the tail end of Gon booking it past all of the students on the stairs, sliding between them and the railing and all but skipping past the front of the hall. Gon glanced over at him from over the heads of students, and Killua thought to himself, _What the hell is that idiot doing?_

And then, Gon was gone. Out the door. Vamanos. 

“You weren’t serious about sinking his career, were you?” Killua asked, looking to Illumi.

“When am I not serious?” _He has a point there_… “Namely, I would just take this up with Leorio.”

“Leorio?” Killua said, brow furrowed. The name sounded familiar, and it didn’t take long for him to piece it together. The old-looking guy who’d come to the lavish parties his parents would throw, back when Killua was living in California. “What could _he_ possibly do? I thought he was just in dev at a startup company—”

“That _became_ HUNter,” Illumi finished, rising from his seat. “Leorio’s the co-founder.”

_Shit. That is serious_, Killua realized, and wondered why he hadn’t pieced that together before. A lot of the people from his parents parties flew off his radar. He couldn’t give two shits about what movie was in discussion, what company was being liquidated by who. What other nameless starter was becoming “the next big thing”. 

But it made sense. The guy looked like a porn director, what with those beady, round glasses and those pinstripe suits.

They left the lecture hall surrounded by students, so it was slow-moving and enough time for Killua to scan the crowd of people out in the hallway. He looked to the restroom where he caught sight of the back of Gon’s head with his fluffy, spikes hair disappearing behind the door. 

Killua looked back at Illumi, who put his hands in his pockets and said, “Back to the apartment?”

“Uh, yeah, but I gotta go to the bathroom real quick,” Killua said, nodding towards the restrooms. 

Illumi studied him for a moment before nodding and saying, “Yeah, okay.”

And so Killua started walking, and Illumi followed, and at the door, Killua opened it and paused when he found Illumi right behind him. “What, are you gonna listen for my shit to hit the water?” he asked.

“Yeah, I am,” Illumi said, and slipped past Killua into the restroom.

Killua sighed and looked ahead into the bathroom. It was empty all except for someone at the urinals, and the half-open stall doors. _Gon came in here, though_… Killua thought, cheeks flushing at the thought of what they had done last time they set foot in this restroom together. 

He went to the final stall, where Gon had sucked him off against the wall. Upon opening the door, he almost hesitated at the sight of Gon _crouched like a gremlin _on the goddamn toilet. Before he could even curse and call him an idiot, Gon put his finger to his lip and gestured for Killua to shut the door. 

He shut and locked the stall door. Gon gestured for him to unzip his pants. 

“_You aren’t blowing me right now_,” Killua mouthed, horrified and furious.

“_No, not that_,” Gon mouthed, and pointed in the direction of where Illumi was waiting for him. _Pretend to shit_, he was saying, and Killua couldn’t be more annoyed. 

He rolled his eyes, undid his jeans and shoved them to his ankles. He threw his arms up in a, “There, you happy?” sort of way. Gon pointed to his underwear. Killua flipped him off. 

Gon grinned and pulled a folded post-it note from his pocket. He held it out to Killua, who found a few words written on it in Gon’s sloppy, drunken toddler handwriting. “_Come to my place if you need space from your brother. I’ll tell security not to let him up. Text me?_”

Killua handed the paper back, pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket, and held it up. He cut a hand across his throat and pointed in Illumi's direction. With his index and middle finger, he gestured from Illumi to the phone—“_He's monitoring it_.”

Gon put a hand to his mouth and thought for a moment, still looking like a gremlin poised over buried treasure. He reached back and pulled out a baggie of snacks he brought to lecture with him and plopped some chocolate covered blueberries into the toilet water to make a satisfying _sploosh_. Killua put his hands over his face. 

Gon walked his fingers over the air before gesturing his thumb over his shoulder. “_Sneak out?_” he mouthed.

Killua shrugged. Illumi would know who he was with, and he didn't want to risk Illumi contacting Leorio, but... it was tempting. _Too tempting_.

He shook his head. 

Gon feigned a sigh. He looked at Killua desperately, and Killua shrugged and shook his head all over again—there was nothing he could do, not without hurting Gon in the process. Gon looked away, scowling, and turned back with a resolute stare. Killua reached past him to flush the damn toilet because this conversation was _taking too damn long_ for a few delicate chocolate blueberry turds. Illumi would think he was constipated by now.

Before Killua could pull away, Gon’s hand grabbed him by the front of his sweatshirt. He jerked, almost falling, and startled when his nose came within an inch of Gon’s. He stared between Gon’s eyes as he backed away, and Gon pointed to his chest.

Gon pulled his hands back, the same index finger still extended, and shoved it into his opposite fist. He pointed to himself. He put up the post-it note and pointed to the last sentence. “_If you sneak over to my place, you can fuck me_.”

Killua stared at him for a whole ass second before Gon pointed down to Killua’s jeans. He bent down, yanked them up, and zipped them, all while staring at Gon, whose eyes had yet to leave Killua’s. Killua moved to leave, but stopped at the door to stare back at Gon, both confused and astonished because _did Gon actually suggest that?_ It was the last thing he expected to come out of Illumi’s threat, and he worried that Gon wouldn’t take it seriously.

He opened the door and swung it shut behind him so he wouldn’t continue to stare at Gon. Gon, who just agreed to let him top. Gon, who just agreed to bottom. Killua resisted the urge to put his hands to his cheeks because _gross_, he just “went to the bathroom”. 

He hurried to the sinks as Illumi watched him from near the door. He scrubbed his hands together with soap, furiously, to try and banished the thoughts flooding his brain that all revolved around Gon’s beautiful, round ass—

His brain cells started frying by the time they left the history building and went on to walk the several blocks to Killua’s apartment. All the while, Killua tried to steer his brain back on track. He needed to _focus_ because this was _Illumi_ they were talking about. If he was going to sneak out, he needed to do it intentionally and leave no tracks.

And he needed to do it this weekend and no sooner.

Sooner, and Killua risked several things: 1) Suspicion and 2) Illumi showing up at Greek History beyond pissed. If Killua went the entire week without so much as looking in Gon's direction, he hoped that Illumi would get the hint. Of course, it would take more than a week for that, but one night at Gon’s wouldn't hurt… He’d insist that he was just hanging out with Zushi, who was fully aware of Illumi’s bullshit.

“How's the brother situation?” Zushi asked that Thursday during figure drawing. There was another model in and it was their second session with her. 

Killua sighed as he shrugged his portfolio bag off of his shoulder and said, “Well, as you know, he's still monitoring my phone. So there’s that.”

“Of course he is,” Zushi said with a roll of his eyes. “Are you gonna meet up with Gon sometime?”

“Probably not until this weekend. I’m just glad he’s not sitting by me in Greek History. It looks like he wants to rip Illumi’s throat out every time I see him, though,” Killua said with a vicious grabby-motion of his hand. 

“Damn, it's a crying shame,” Zushi said.

Killua snorted and said, “Yeah, okay, _Scarlett O’Hara_.”

Zushi giggled and flicked a pencil at Killua, who slapped it away and sent it clattering to the floor. Their professor snapped her fingers at them, and Zushi leapt in terror and cried, “Sorry! Sorry, my bad.”

Killua spent the week preparing Illumi for the weekend. He decided that he couldn’t _just_ sneak out: it needed to be a heist. He needed it to be perfectly executed in a way that fully convinced Illumi that Zushi was _far_ from a threat—despite… having been there for all of Killua's worst moments. He brought Zushi over one night to work on their portrait projects, which required partnering with someone in the class and drawing their face exclusively for a week. It was the perfect opportunity to say:

“I’m _exhausted_,” Zushi moaned as he flopped back on the ground, hands back, legs flopped to the side. “Do you think we could finish this later?"

"I dunno. When were you thinking?”

Zushi took a second to think about it. From the futon they heard Illumi stop clicking on his keyboard. “I’m kinda busy until Friday…”

“I’m free Friday after class.”

“We could do it at my place? I’ve got pudding packets.”

“I could eat exclusively pudding for the rest of my life and not complain,” Killua confessed. He looked up and found Zushi raising his eyebrows. “In other words—yeah, your place sounds good.”

“What time?” Illumi asked from over the edge of his laptop screen.

“Three?” Zushi said. Killua nodded. 

“We’ll be there.”

Zushi hissed, uncertain, and said, “You know… my apartment’s pretty small. And I wanna have a guy’s night with Killua! It’ll be great. We’ll watch a movie or something after we’re done.”

Killua looked to Illumi, who stared back, blank-faced. Killua shrugged and said, “I need to get this project done. We aren’t even halfway done.”

“How many do you have left?” Illumi asked.

“Eight or so,” Killua said. Two a day for an entire week, and when everyone in the class was trying to outdraw one another, Killua and Zushi had to make every portrait MOMA worthy. But in all honesty, they only had two to do. “We’ll finish two more today and do the other six on Friday.”

Illumi squinted at him. “Alright. I’ll be dropping you off _and_ picking you up.”

Killua nodded. “Okay, sounds good to me.”

So it was settled. That Friday after Greek History, Illumi walked Killua to Zushi’s apartment complex where Zushi strolled out in a floral-printed kimono and flip-flops looking like a bootlegged housewife who just killed her husband for the money. It was snowing and absolutely no time for flipflops, so Zushi merely swung open the door, leant out, and said, “Get in here, you idiot!”

Killua laughed, turned to Illumi, and said, “I'll text you when we’re done. Here are my apartment keys.”

“Okay. I don't need your keys—I’ve already copied them,” Illumi said, ominously, and held up a spare pair that never existed before that moment. Killua stared at them even as they disappeared out of sight. He frowned, opened his mouth, and closed it. No, he had no words.

Killua staggered up the steps of Zushi’s stoop and glanced back again, curiously, at his brother. Illumi waited on the sidewalk until Killua was in the building and Zushi began leading him through to his apartment on the second floor.

There, he found Zushi's door propped open. Zushi kicked the wooden wedge aside so the door swung shut behind them. He sashayed through the apartment, waving a dismissive hand at the mess. "Don't mind all my crap. You can leave your portfolio bag here if you want.”

"Nah, I’ve got toothbrush, lube, and condoms in my pencil bag. Illumi never checks my charcoal,” Killua explained. Before they left, Illumi had rifled through his backpack. Killua took care not to keep any of his overnight shit visible.

“Only the essentials,” Zushi said, kicking a path through the kitchen. There was a surprising amount of cardboard boxes strewn, empty, across the kitchen. They made a ruckus getting through and to the back door where the rickety wooden porch descended in switchback stairs to the alley between the brick apartment complexes. The stairs were now solid frost and ice, though, as Killua turned to stare at Zushi, and Zushi offered a helpless shrug. "I don’t use these stairs, what can I say? Now _go_, you idiot!"

Killua went ahead down the creaky, wooden steps to the pavement below. It was all pure ice as he skidded and slid down the alley and around to the next block over, far from where Illumi was either A) heading back to Killua’s apartment or B) spying on the front of Zushi's apartment. Killua bounded out to the street, haphazardly crossed the road, and went, sliding, up to the subway stairs. He grabbed hold of the railing and scurried down into New York’s underground.

From Zushi’s place, Gon’s apartment was a quick, one-stop trip, so Killua was quick to scan his ticket, all but jump the barrier gate, and run to the oncoming subway just now pulling up to the platform. The subway stilled with a shrill squeak and, a moment later, Killua was onboard. He stood there, panting, heart beating like _mad_ in his burning chest, and looked around the carriage as if anyone _really_ cared that he was approximately half an hour away from Getting Ass.

He resisted the urge to kick out his feet and burst into song. It seemed like something that would happen on a NYC subway, anyway. The lights would dim, he’d break into a dance number, and serenade Gon in all of the broken Spanish he learned freshmen year in high school and Gon would look at him and say, “_Please, never sing to me in my native language again. I beg you_.”

The instant the subway stopped at the next station, Killua was out and racing across the tiles to the exit. With his portfolio bag over one shoulder, he flew up the steps, a hand on the iron railing, and practically catapulted himself out onto the sidewalk where he composed himself, flattened a hand over the zipper of his jacket, and continued on—more calmly this time. When he approached Gon’s apartment complex, he did so without looking like a crazed, sex-deprived maniac, approached the front desk, and said in a business-like voice, “I’m here to see Gon Freecss, apartment number 99.”

The woman buzzed Gon’s number for him, maintaining eye contact even as the phone rang and she picked it up and said, “There’s a young man here to see you. What’s your name?”

“Killua Zoldyck.”

“I see. A young Killua Zoldy—okay, I’ll send him up.”

She hung up the phone.

She pressed a button and the elevator door opened. With a gesture towards it, she said, “Ninth floor, buttons are on your right.”

Killua hastily thanked her as he hurried to the elevator. He slipped in, turned, and punched the ninth floor button. His hands shook as he waited, so he clenched them into fists and stuffed them into the pockets of his jacket. It did nothing to prevent him from tapping his foot, though, as the floor number climbed up.

When the elevator chimed, the breath was swept out of Killua's lungs. He watched the doors open, his toes on the very edge of it, his portfolio bag snug against his side. He gripped the plastic edge of it as he stepped out and glanced down the hall in the direction of Gon’s apartment. There, he found the door open, and Gon himself standing at the threshold, his back against the frame, and his eyes on the elevator. 

Gon leant out of the door a little, holding it by the frame. Killua started towards him, his throat suddenly tight as he swallowed hard at the sight of Gon looking _so_ damn fine in those fitted Adidas sweatpants and a plain grey muscle shirt. 

“Sorry it took so long,” Killua started, his voice sounding foreign to him as it came out, slightly raspy. “Illumi—my brother—he’s kind of—”

“It's fine,” Gon said, and reached out to take the portfolio bag from Killua’s shoulder. At least, that's what Killua thought he was doing, until Gon tugged him by the arm and pulled him in for a sudden, slow kiss. Killua's breath caught in his throat and between his lips where Gon breathed against him, tasting and smelling like sweet, winter mint.

Killua opened his mouth to Gon and let the slow lull of their lips ease all of the tension in his shoulders. His bag slid to his elbow, his hand, and he would have dropped it had Gon not taken it off of his hands, leant back, and whispered, “Get inside.”

_Fuck_.

“O-Okay,” Killua said, and crossed the threshold with Gon on his heels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating the tags for the next chapter lol in case yall wanna know wHAT TO EXPECT >:)


	13. The Moment We've All Been Waiting For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killua's bouta make his mans a bottom... but at what cost?

** W**hen Killua stepped into Gon’s apartment, it was with more confidence than the first time, and his first task was to get his damn backpack and jacket off. He stepped past the kitchen and to the stools where he could drop his backpack off and sling his jacket. Behind him, he heard Gon rest the portfolio bag against the wall.

Killua passed a hand through his hair and sighed, “Fuck, dude, do you have any weed on you?”

“Yeah, a little,” he said and left to fetch it. Killua trailed after him, his shoes abandoned near the door. The apartment was quiet all except for some soft music playing in Gon’s bedroom. His monitors were awake and across them, Killua found Gon’s editing software open along with social media tabs, a spreadsheet riddled with information, and an online banking tab was open. Gon closed out of them with one hand and reached into a drawer with the other.

He produced a small lockbox from the drawer and popped it open. He plucked out a baggie from inside and set the lockbox back into the drawer. As Gon opened the baggie, Killua wandered over to Gon’s display shelves and pointed to the bong on the top shelf.

“I’m not tryna go on a trip, but I’m down to try this if you are,” Killua said, and when Gon agreed, he reached up, pulled the glass door aside, and took down the bong. It was short, nothing crazy, but he knew for a _fact_ that shit was expensive as hell. 

As he left to fill it with water, Gon said, “Have you gone in for your results yet?” 

Killua paused, the faucet still running. He shut it off after a second and realized what Gon was talking about—the STD testing. He closed his eyes, sighed, and said, "No, I haven’t. My brother's been staying with me all week and breathing down my neck. It'd be weird if I took him to the clinic for that,” he said.

He plucked the bowl from the stem of the bong and checked it to make sure it was clean. Gon was already on the bed, legs loosely crossed, a wooden tray set on the sheets in front of him. Killua was hesitant to join him as he asked, "Did... you get your tests back?”

“Yeah, I'm clean,” Gon said. He held the bag of weed out to Killua. 

Killua’s breath of relief nearly had him fainting. Instead, he half-swooned onto the bed and slumped down to his elbow, setting the bong on the tray. “Thank _God_,” Killua said. 

Killua couldn’t believe he survived the week without knowing the results. Truthfully, he couldn’t believe he survived a week with _Illumi_ without so much as a hit. Once the chocolates were gone, so was Killua, and _boy_ did he need another mild high, just to dull the sharp edge that was his anxiety.

He put a small serving of weed into the bowl as he said, “Sorry I’m totally hijacking your stash—I’ll pay you back.”

“You don’t have to pay me back,” Gon said. “You—I mean, if you _want_ to, I can just dock it off of what we made on… that video.”

Killua pinched the baggie closed again and handed it back with a raised eyebrow. “There’s still cash from that? Dude, it’s yours now for all the shits I give.”

Gon shrugged. “Whenever a video of mine does well and I've made it in collaboration with someone, I still share the profit. Even if it’s still getting hits after, like, _a year_. The contract cuts off payments after two years, though, unless we’ve made another video before that stint is up.”

“Yeah, I remember reading that, but I just don't care enough, if I’m being honest,” Killua confessed as he lit the bowl and took a test hit. The smoke was warm and silky in his throat, and _shit_, did it feel good on the second hit. He breathed smoke through his lips, eyes closed, and whispered, “That’s good shit. Is that Kurapika’s?”

“Yeah, a different supplier, though,” Gon said. “I haven't tried it with a bong yet. Can I?”

Killua passed it over. He leant back against the pillows as Gon put the mouth of the bong to his lips and the fog curled up the neck of it. As he did, Killua confessed, “But when it comes to payment for the video stuff, I really… _don’t_ care about that. Recording it just gets me off, you know? And maybe I'm a narcissist but I like watching that shit afterwards.”

Gon paused, a white fog slipping past his lips for the entire second he stared at Killua in silence before he said, “You… watch it afterwards?”

Killua swallowed hard because _shit_, he sounded like a fanboy when Gon put it like that. Like it was _weird_. Heat swelled to his cheeks as he stammered, “I-I mean, I’m still subscribed to you.” _Fuck, that's even worse_!

Killua rubbed a hand over his forehead and groaned, flopping back on the bed. “Sorry—that’s weird. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“I sort of forgot you were subscribed,” Gon confessed as he got off of the bed and set the tray aside. When he returned, he leant into Killua’s field of view with that wide, dazzling smile that was all cheeks and smile lines. “Aw, you’re embarrassed.”

“Shut up,” Killua groaned, putting his hand over Gon’s face so he wouldn’t have to see that smug grin. Gon took him by the wrist, his fingers oh-so warm against Killua’s chilled skin. He tugged Killua’s hand down and kissed the palm of it.

Killua bit his bottom lip, watching Gon’s amber eyes slowly shut as he kissed and licked up Killua’s index finger. Gon pushed a knee onto the mattress, leaning closer, as he took Killua’s finger into his hot, wet mouth and lathered it with his tongue. His lips were soft against the pads of Killua’s fingers as Gon released them, and Killua dragged his index finger along Gon’s bottom lip. 

They studied one another for a moment before Gon whispered, “Do you want to record it—just for us?”

Killua didn’t hesitate. He nodded, eyes bright, and Gon leaned in to close the gap between them. Killua opened his lips immediately, all but trembling at the tongue of Gon’s tongue against his. He leant back against the pillows, a hand reaching back to grasp one of the posts as Gon dragged a hand down his thigh and gripped him under the knee. He pulled, and Killua gasped into the force of the kiss and the fast, sloppy nature of it. Gon’s tongue, his teeth, were on Killua’s bottom lip before long, tugging at it on his way to the column of Killua’s neck. 

Killua eased into it, the haze over his brain smoking out every thought on his mind except the intensity of Gon’s touch and the way the texture of Gon’s skin and wet lips rubbed against his goosebumps. Gon pulled back, panting, one hand hooked under Killua’s shirt as he said, “I need to shower.”

_Fuck_, Killua thought, unable to mask the disappointment because _of course_ Gon wasn't prepared for this. Killua showed up, unannounced, and this shit took time.

He had to take it slow, for Gon’s sake.

Killua nodded, swallowed hard, and rasped out, “O-Okay. Do you need help or—?”

“No. No—just give me a few minutes,” Gon said with a gentle smile. 

Killua stayed where he was long after Gon got off of the bed and locked the bathroom door. He wondered if Gon was second-guessing the whole thing right then and there, his back to the door, wondering, _Dear God, why did I agree to this?_

Killua went for the bong, desperate to stamp out every last one of those thoughts. He was shaking at the very thought of Gon letting him do this. He took another hit and blew a thick ring of smoke into the air over him as he dropped back onto the mattress, his arms splayed out on either side of him. The ring dissolved into the air before it could hit the silky curtains.

He let himself melt into the blankets, eyes closed, and remained like that while the shower sounded in the distance, muffled through the bathroom door. Soft music was still playing on Gon's computer speakers. There was nothing he could do except think about Gon in the shower. He had left his phone with Zushi, but then he grew curious about everything Gon had left open on his computer. 

Killua got up, feeling light and airy as he lingered over the back of Gon’s office chair. He slipped onto it, pulled his feet up on the edge, and reached for the mouse. He wiggled it a bit, and the screens blinked to life. He glanced over his shoulder, back at the closed bathroom door. The shower was still running, so Killua turned back around and clicked to Gon’s open video file. He scrubbed through the film—an unboxing and product review video paired with a Q&A. A filler video, if Killua ever saw one. Many big-name HUNters tended to fluff their content with videos like this. It made keeping a schedule easy without running their libido ragged.

Killua found a photo library open on the desktop, so he pulled it forward and found a photoshoot dated from just the other day watermarked as proofs. It looked like a professional shoot, in a studio and everything with makeup and models. Not all of the photos were of Gon, but of the ones that were, they had Gon in smeared, red lipstick modeling underwear with his _very_ obvious package. Killua wondered if they enhanced it otherwise Gon was _definitely_ half-hard in those Calvin Kleins god_damn_.

A familiar, dark-haired woman was with him in a few of the images that were saved to his computer. Palm—a woman who specialized in costume and lingerie on HUNter—looked like an elegant mistress with full, black curls that framed her pale, pale skin. Her red lipstick was worn from leaving marks on Gon’s neck, shoulders, and chest—and one dangerously close lipstick mark above the Calvin Klein logo on the hem of his underwear. 

There was a shot of the two of them with familiar models lying on white sheets and comforters. The familiar faces were at the center of the photo, but _damn_, Gon shined brighter than all of them with that killer, Heath Ledger smile of his and that dark, olive skin. Gon had one hand behind his head, the other stretched across his chest so his hand was resting just below a woman’s cleavage. He was grazing a finger underneath the hem of her Calvin Klein sports bra.

When the bathroom door opened, Killua thought to himself, _Fuck, I’m caught_, and then, _Well, no point in pretending I wasn’t peeping_.

“What was this photoshoot for?” Killua asked, glancing over his shoulder to where Gon stepped out with a towel around his waist. 

“Oh, a few HUNter partners were asked to model for a Playboy photoshoot. We were all interviewed about, like, how we started off, embracing sexuality online, that sort of thing,” Gon said, scrubbing a towel through his hair. “I’m not supposed to share the photos until next month, so don't tell anyone about it.”

Killua was still trying to wrap his brain around the word _Playboy_. He thought of _[B](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DPTBSyn-Ql0)everly Hills_ by Weezer and pictured Gon at the Playboy mansion with an electric guitar singing, “_I wanna live a life like that—I wanna be just like a king—take my picture by the pool, ‘cause I’m the next-big-THING!_”

“Dude, that’s amazing,” Killua said, stupidly, and added, “I don’t—I don’t even know who I'd tell, but that’s fucking incredible.”

Gon shrugged before leaning over the back of the chair. Killua's nose wound up straight next to Gon’s nipple as he pushed over, took the mouse, and locked the computer. “I've gotta start shutting my computer off before you come in here,” Gon said with a smile.

Killua flushed and stammered, “I-I’m not—I swear to God I’m not some creepy fanboy—”

“I know, I’m just kidding. God,” Gon laughed, scrubbing his fingers through Killua’s hair as he walked off and towards the windows. He tugged the blinds closed as he said, “I’m thinking blue lighting this time. Do you mind setting the lights? The remote’s on the desk.”

Killua reached for the black box on the corner of the desk. He clicked the “on” button, and the neon lights at the four corners of the room blinked on. They were set to pink until Killua turned the dial through the rainbow and settled on a sharp, sky blue that turned the darkened room into the color of a pool room at night. It shimmered with the light sway in Gon’s bed curtains. 

Gon positioned the studio lighting and adjusted the cameras to accommodate for the blue lighting. Killua’s heart hummed in his chest, fluttering giddily in his ribcage as he got to his feet, his eyes stuck on Gon’s profile as Gon adjusted the shade over the studio light, softening the glow through the bed curtains. When Gon pulled the curtains aside and tied them to the posts, Killua’s eyes settled on the dimples on Gon’s lower back, just before the towel hid the rest from view.

Gon’s back was shaped with smooth, taunt muscles and flawless olive skin. Killua was staring so intently at Gon that he nearly ran into the bed post on his way to the display of sex toys. He pulled the glass aside and began to gather all of the items he couldn’t get out of his head. All of the items he wanted to use on Gon ever since he first suggested topping. 

Killua sifted hastily through Gon’s lube collection, the toys clutched to his chest where Gon couldn't see them. He turned around and found Gon staring at him. "Don't look,” Killua said, quickly, and Gon instantly put a hand over his eyes but still protested.

“I just want to make sure you’re not doing anything crazy with me—”

Killua rolled his eyes. With one hand, he tugged open the nightstand drawer. “Nothing crazy. Trust me, I’ll make you feel _so_ good,” he all but purred as he nudged the drawer shut and went to where Gon was standing next to the foot of the bed. He was holding onto the camera remote, so Killua went to take it from him. Gon held onto it fast. 

“I just—I want to be in control,” Gon said, holding the remote high over his head. He closed his eyes and said, "Of the cameras, I mean.”

Killua found it hard to believe that Gon could talk about needing control during sex when the guy had an actual _dom_. Still, he could understand Gon’s insecurities, if only a little. It was a massive step for Gon to let someone else pleasure him when he had spent all this time doing so himself or pleasuring others. Catering to _others_ seemed to be his specialty.

Killua still had his hand on Gon's wrist, but he loosened his grip. He stepped closer, gently guiding Gon forward so he could place his lips over the soft, freshly cleaned skin of Gon’s bicep. He nipped at Gon’s skin a little, kissing the light, red marks he left behind on his trail to Gon’s neck. He ran his hands down Gon’s waist, gripping him at the hips where his thumbs could travel along that oh-so tempting “V” to the edge of the towel. All the while, he sucked at Gon's neck, licked it, and held Gon tight against him.

He felt Gon swallow against his lips, his adam's apple bobbing, and his arm lowered to his side as his other hand remained hooked over the back of Killua's neck. He shivered at the sensation of Gon's fingers in his hair, dragging up along his scalp.

Gon’s skin smelled fresh and felt supple and soft against Killua’s fingers and lips as he tugged the towel loose. He breathed soft kisses down between Gon’s defined pecs as he slipped the towel aside and let it drop to the rug on his way down to his knees. He splayed his hands along the sides of Gon’s hips, where the muscle dipped in, before lightening his touch to a mere graze that trailed goosebumps behind his gentle fingers. He passed his hands down the sides of Gon’s toned thighs as he fanned his breath along the delicate skin above Gon’s half-hard cock.

Gon’s skin was lighter, thinner there. He licked his tongue along a blue vein down to Gon's hardened length. Gon's fingers tightened in his hair. 

When Killua brought his hands back up, he did so by traveling lightly up the back of Gon’s thighs. He felt Gon tremble against him, shivering as Killua brought his eyes up to meet Gon’s before laying a few experimental kisses along Gon’s inner thigh. He hooked his fingers in, lingering just below Gon’s ass so that he could pass his fingers dangerously close to Gon’s hole. Gon tensed and Killua felt it against his scalp. 

Killua shushed him, bringing a hand around to Gon’s abdomen. He rubbed up between Gon’s pecs and back down again as he reached into his pocket with his other hand. From it, he produced a black ring. 

Gon put his head back and groaned like it was the most annoying thing in the world. 

Killua grinned and said, “Do we have a problem here, _Freakss_?” 

Gon dropped back onto the edge of the bed and took the cock ring from Killua. He looked dully at Killua, who leant against Gon’s left knee, the one closest to him, and said, “If you don’t want it on—”

“I’m just—nervous,” Gon confessed with a wince, looking guilty. “That I won’t even get off.” 

Killua blinked, straightened a little, and said, “But—on your video you got off on a dildo. Why’s this different?”

Gon rolled his eyes. “It’s called acting. And if I plan ahead I can usually cum without being touched,” he explained. Killua thought about the video where Gon said his name when he climaxed. 

Killua abruptly felt self-conscious as he leant back on his heels with a frown. His resolve wavered, just a touch, and then he was wondering, “Did it feel good—_at all?_”

Gon shook his head. “Kinda... felt like a cold shit, if I’m being honest.”

Killua burst into laughter. It bubbled up in his chest and brought a smile back to his face. “Okay—here’s what's gonna happen,” Killua said, his determination back full force. He got to his feet, shedding his shirt as he went to the nightstand. He put a knee to the mattress and gestured for Gon to move up. As Gon climbed over, Killua rubbed a hand against the sheets—Gon had put a towel underneath them before adjusting the lights, it seemed. Gon reclined back against the pillows, his head to the headboard, and Killua leant over him as he said, “It’s gonna be a bit uncomfortable at first, but we’re gonna find your prostate.”

Gon stuck his tongue out. “Ew.”

Killua rolled his eyes. “It's not _ew_. It’s the male version of a G-spot.”

Gon stared at Killua like he'd never heard of such a thing. Killua narrowed his eyes. “You've seriously never heard of the P-spot. Jesus Christ—okay, give me your hands.”

As Gon put his hands out for Killua to grab hold of, he said, “So you can really get off with just anal? I thought—”

“Yeah, I mean, more stimulation the better, but I find it hard to believe you never knew about it. When you fuck me, you somehow _consistently_ hit it. I figured you knew,” Killua confessed. He felt kind of guilty—and here Gon thought Killua just wanted to make him uncomfortable for the sake of his own sex drive. 

Killua reached into the nightstand and produced the soft, padded cuffs. He put Gon’s hands up to the headboard posts and slipped one cuff down to Gon’s wrist. He tightened it so Gon’s hand wouldn't slip out. As he did, he leant over to straddle Gon's waist so he could loop the cuff around the bar and slip Gon's other hand in. He tugged it tight before asking, “Do you have a latex glove? Something skin-tight.”

Gon looked terrified. “Y-Yeah, in the bathroom. What’re you—”

“I’m not gonna just _shove it in_ when I don’t even know where to aim,” Killua said, scrambling off of the bed. 

Gon coached him to the cupboard over the toilet where Gon stashed a box of slim, lavender, medical gloves. Killua snapped one on, returned, and reached for the lube. He squeezed a dollop onto his fingers and slicked them up. He almost wanted to take his jeans off, but the look on Gon’s face stopped him from going there. The last thing he wanted was for Gon to get cold feet at the sight of his dick. 

Killua dragged a finger along the base of Gon’s cock, where the ring was settled on his half-hard penis. He clicked the vibrator on, and Gon tensed, biting his lip. “Too much?” Killua asked.

Gon shook his head. “N-No, just… feels funny. It’s not bad.”

Killua closed his latex glove into a fist to keep his fingers warm while he kissed along Gon’s knee and down his inner thigh. He felt Gon’s hesitation in the way his skin trembled and stilled the closer Killua licked beneath Gon’s balls down to his tight hole. All things considered, Killua knew Gon kept up with his hygiene down there regardless of whether or not he was doing anal, and that day, so soon after Gon’s shower, his skin was baby soft and smelled warm and fresh. 

Killua put his clean hand on the outside of Gon’s leg, soothing his muscles as he leant back and met Gon’s eyes. Gon’s cheeks were flush as Killua brought his latexed pinkie along the outer rim of Gon’s hole. Killua leant over Gon, pushing his clean hand to the pillows as he said, “Breathe for me—deep breaths.”

Gon nodded and put his head back to take a deep, calming breath. It came out shaky, though, so Killua dragged his fingers up Gon’s chest to the motion of each inhale and exhale. 

On Gon’s next inhale, Killua pushed his middle finger in. He ran his slicked finger in a shallow, slow circle along the untouched, sensitive skin of Gon’s hole that had Gon’s breath hitching. Killua pushed in to the next knuckle when Gon relaxed again, coaxed by Killua’s hand splayed across his chest. Killua hooked his finger, just so, and glided it further in. He brought his eyes up to meet Gon’s. He gauged every reaction, every hesitant breath with each gesture of his finger pushing its boundaries inside of Gon’s pert ass.

Eventually, after passing each inch his one finger could reach, he pulled out and said, “I’m putting a second finger in, okay?”

“Y-Yeah, okay,” Gon stammered, and when Killua pushed in, he said, “God, this feels so weird. I don’t like it.”

“Give it another minute,” Killua said. It was difficult reaching very far with one finger, and with two, he had more angles to work with. 

It was different for everyone, especially when another person was searching for it. Killua thought back to when he found Ikalgo’s prostate. It wasn’t far, and he just needed to twist his fingers up _just so_...

Gon jumped like Killua just sent a volt of electricity up his ass. 

“_Fuck_!” Gon groaned, melting back into the pillows before perking up again and saying, “Was that—do that again—”

Killua pushed up and grazed his fingers over the bump where he could feel Gon’s prostate. He rubbed in slow, gentle circles and watched as Gon’s mouth fell open, his back arching off of the blankets. Killua scissored his fingers and stretched Gon out, all while teasing Gon’s neglected prostate with gradual, tantalizing strokes from the tip of his finger to the base of it, wedged deep against Gon’s firm hole.

And then, he pulled out and snapped the glove off. He left the bed to toss the glove away as he undid the zipper on his jeans and pulled them down. On his way back, he shed his jeans and grabbed the bottle of lube and a condom from the nightstand as Gon panted, one knee pulled up, the other strewn to the side. The skin on his chest was flushed now as Killua rolled the condom on and stroked himself hard with a hand slick with lube. 

Gon’s knuckles were white around the camera remote, pushed up against the headboard posts. When Killua pushed up between his legs, their cocks rubbing together, Gon jolted and trembled with a shaky curse. Killua wrapped his hand around them both as Gon let out a breathy moan.

“Do it—fuck me,” Gon said, arcing against the restraints.

Killua settled himself between Gon’s legs, his knees pushed into the sheets. He heard the cuffs clank against the headboard when Gon shifted, the wood creaking. Killua angled himself at Gon’s entrance, rubbing the tip of his cock beneath Gon’s balls and down to his hole. He looked up, poised and ready, and Gon took the hint. He breathed in deep as Killua slid in.

Killua slid up so every inch of him grazed Gon’s prostate on the way in. He was slow and tedious and was so focused on Gon’s reaction that he didn’t stop until his hips were slotted up against Gon’s ass. He waited and wondered if Gon could feel him shaking because holy _shit_, he was actually doing this. Gon’s hole clenched tight around him, and before he could move, Gon hooked his ankles around Killua’s waist. When Killua went to stroke him, Gon shook his head, his skin shining with sweat.

“Don’t—I’m too sensitive right now,” Gon confessed. “C-Could you maybe turn the vibrator off, though?”

Killua clicked the button on Gon’s cockring. Gon looked like he was on the brink—his damp blank hair in a disarray, his toes curled against Killua’s back. Gon’s legs tightened, Killua rolled his hips forward, and the friction sent Gon preening with a delighted moan. He rocked shallow thrusts into Gon’s hips, keeping each one short and steady as soon as he pulled out to the tip and focused all of his energy on treating Gon’s prostate with all of the care and attention that would push Gon to the brink.

He ran his hands up the backs of Gon’s thighs to cup his ass and squeeze his fingers into that firm, toned muscle. It was absolutely _everything_ to hear the sound of Gon’s pornographic moan, like having Killua’s dick up his ass was the best damn thing to ever happen to him. Killua couldn’t help it—he started giggling. 

Laughing during sex wasn’t a thing he was used to. With the football team’s self-proclaimed straightness, laughing felt more like a knock on their masculinity. But with Gon? Gon went from moaning to groaning, “Stop laughing—_Killu_\- _ah—Aye,_ yai yai, right there.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Killua said, a complete smiling mess. 

“_Harder_,” Gon ordered, but Killua couldn’t move a damn muscle. 

He folded over Gon, laughing, and braced a hand on the headboard next to Gon’s hands. He grunted when Gon grinded up against him, rolling his hips. Killua met Gon’s thrusts, angling his hips up for each push in. Gon put all of his weight onto his legs where they were still hooked around Killua’s waist, and Killua took the opportunity to reach between them and grasp Gon around his cock, dragging his thumb over the ring at the base of it. 

Gon groaned like he was in pain, and the way his brow pinched nearly made Killua wonder if he was. “Fuck—_please—_” Gon’s voice was broken into a low whine as Killua stroked his aching cock. Gon threw his head back, teeth gritted, his hips stuttering against Killua’s short, tempered thrusts. Their skin was sticky with sweat, legs slick with lube. The sheets burned under Killua’s knees and the wood beneath his hand dug its edges into his palm as he unlatched the cockring when the taunt, twisted knot in his gut sprung loose.

The instant the cockring was released, Gon trembled, his thighs squeezing the damn life out of Killua’s torso. Pulled out from Gon’s ass, completely spent, as Gon’s hot, creamy cum painted a stripe across Killua’s stomach. Killua tossed the cockring aside before brushing his hair back from his eyes, watching as Gon choked out a breathy curse, still shaking in Killua’s arms. 

Killua reached up and unlatched the chain on the cuffs. It clanked out from between the bedframe spokes as Gon let his arms drop like noodles over his head, completely boneless and melting into the sheets. 

Killua caught himself staring at Gon’s post-orgasm expression. Gon turned his bleary, lidded eyes over to Killua then, and Killua glanced down at himself and stammered, “I-I’ll get a towel. Hang on.”

He twisted around and barrel-rolled off of the bed. In the bathroom, he unsheathed himself and flicked the filthy condom into the bin. After hastily wiping himself down and scrubbing a soapy mixture over his stomach and crotch, he dried off, got a fresh towel, and went to tend to the state of Gon’s lubed-up asscheeks. 

Gon was still putty on the bed by the time Killua made it back to the mattress. Killua worked the towel between Gon’s thighs until Gon flopped a hand down and whispered, “I’ve got it,” and started cleaning himself off. Gon cleared his throat as he pushed himself up to his elbow, his back to the headboard. He grimaced as he grazed the towel between his cheeks. Killua waited, breath caught in his throat, as Gon’s brow furrowed and he whispered, “Fuck.”

“What, what is it?” Killua asked, eyes wide.

* * *

“I tore the damn lining of his anus. And for what? The best orgasm of his damn life?” Killua said, mortified. He slapped both hands over his eyes and groaned. Across the table from him, Kurapika was slurping down boba like his life depended on it, staring with judgmental eyes at Killua. “Now he’s gotta eat a fiber rich diet and smoothies until it doesn’t feel like the fires of hell are blasting his ass to smithereens.”

“Thank you for that thrilling, unsolicited update,” Kurapika said. "Aren't you supposed to be with your brother anyway?”

“Maybe later,” Killua sighed, exhausted. 

It was dark out now, and long after he and Gon took an Uber to the university clinic. There, Gon went to have his ass investigated, and Killua got his STD results back. He waited out in the lobby for Gon, who stepped out looking chipper, like Killua _hadn't_ just torn his ass in two. Gon walked up to him, and before Killua could even ask about it, Gon was inquiring about Killua’s test results. “_Negative, all except for ligma_,” Killua had said. “_What’s ligma?_” Gon had asked, confused. "_Ligma balls, bitch_,” Killua had said, far too proud for tricking Gon into that joke. 

But now that his results were back and he fucked Gon in the ass, there was nothing left on Killua's itinerary that required being alone. Except, perhaps, filling Kurapika in on the drama.

“So are you guys gonna post the video?"

“No, we just recorded it for shits and giggles I guess,” Killua confessed with a wave of his hand. 

“What about the whole… _like-_ like debacle?”

Killua frowned. It was constantly present on his mind, and it flew to the forefront whenever he saw Gon. It made his heart race and his mind inexplicably giddy whenever he and Gon shared the same space. Even better still, the romantic in him was positively comatose after Gon let him top. 

He slumped to the side with a groan and said, "It's getting _worse_. I’m managing it, but I don’t know what I'd do if Gon decided he didn’t want to fuck anymore.”

“There’s more to a relationship than fucking.” Kurapika paused, the straw pushed to his lips. “Whoever thought we’d hear those words come out of my mouth. _My_ mouth.”

“I know, which is why I like this whole friends-with-benefits thing. It’s basically a relationship without all of the gross requirements straight people die by. Going to restaurants. Buying coffee for each other. Spending money because apparently money equals love, yada-yada-yada,” Killua said. He really didn’t want _any of that_ in a relationship. His idea relationship involved… everything he and Gon were now. 

It would all be idea if they could call it dating, and if Gon was explicitly _aware_ of it. 

But Gon didn’t date, and that made sense to Killua. They guy was an internet sex idol, for Chrissake. He likely didn’t want a public announcement about his relationship status, and Killua wondered just how many subscribers Gon would lose if it came out that Freakss _wasn’t_, in fact, single. So many HUNters made their money off of teasing viewers into thinking _they had a chance_—albeit, slyly, with subtle undertones that suggested the _viewers_ were the only ones for them. 

Gon had done it. Retz does it. It was sleazy but it _worked_, so Killua couldn’t be anything but proud.

“Those are just… relationship expectations,” Kurapika argued, looking slightly concerned. “Have you… ever _dated_, dude?”

Killua frowned at him and said, “There are things you don't need to know… and that’s one of them.”

Kurapika dropped his hands onto the table and groaned, increasing in volume, and slumping back against the chair. “My _guy_! You’ve never _dated?_ What’s the matter with you! You sleep with half of Yorknew and called it quits before a guy could put a ring on it?”

Killua shifted uncomfortably. “I just… don’t like how they act. The longest relationship I’ve been in lasted all of two weeks and I ended it ‘cause he bought me coffee three times. _Three times!_ Like, I don’t want that debt on my soul, you know what I'm saying?"

“It’s just people being _nice_, dude. Gon bought a fucking _laptop for you_."

“That's different! It was technically _my_ money,” Killua said. “And if we ever surpass my revenue and he keeps offering to buy things, I'll kick his ass to the curb, too. I think.”

Kurapika stared at him like he couldn't believe a damn work that just flew out of Killua’s mouth and onto the table. Killua shuffled uncomfortably again, arms crossed, and said, “What's so weird about that? Don’t _you_ hate Straight Date Stuff too?”

“To an _extent_,” Kurapika said. “I still like movies and blowjobs in the back of the theater, you know.”

Killua decided to amend his statement. “Okay, _that_ I can get on board with.”

“And I'm not gonna spend twenty-four-seven with the guy. _Maximum_ three times a week."

“Yeah, makes sense. What about moving in together?"

“He'd have to be the least annoying person on the planet. I can’t even stand a roommate _now_. What makes you think I won't give a shit if my mans playing video games at two in the fucking morning just 'cause he’s _‘my mans_’? It's absurd.”

Killua squinted at Kurapika and muttered, “Touché," in a bitter sort of way that suggested Kurapika’s dating standards were up his alley. He reached for his boba and slurped a few pearls down before saying, "Alright. Fine. I like some Straight Date Stuff—albeit _modified_ to be _less intrusive_.”

"A dick up your ass is pretty intrusive.”

"I'm talking, like, changing my schedule for a man.”

“Aren’t you doing that already for Gon?"

“But that’s because I _want sex_, Kurapika, get your facts straight."

Kurapika raised his hands in surrender. “Whatever, dude. If you _really_ want to date Gon, just ask him. I'm sure he’d understand.”

He rolled his eyes off to the side, where the cloudy New York evening turned the streets grey. “Yeah, he would, in the nice-guy sort of way like, ‘_That’s so sweet, I'm so flattered, but no thank you_.’ He already told me dating is off limits and I just… don't want to cross that line right now.” _That’s probably something he should cross first, if he's so worried_, Killua thought to himself, tapping a finger to his cheek.

Kurapika shrugged and, shortly after, the two of them left the boba shop with their stomachs full of tapioca and homework on their minds. Kurapika left to the nearest subway tunnel while Killua lingered out on the streets, taking his merry time to return to Zushi's place for his phone. 

Since Zushi was neck-deep in a Netflix show, Killua didn't stick around. He took his phone and left through the back door where he brought up Illumi’s contact to send a quick text to his brother to let him know he was on his way back. After typing it out, though, he changed his mind and figured he could stand to be surprised, considering the shock Illumi gave him the morning of the STD test.

When he came up the steps of his apartment, he did so not realizing how much he would come to wish he had warned Illumi. Perhaps then he wouldn’t have knocked on his apartment door and been met with a strange, familiar face from his childhood grown up and looking _far_ too proud to have beat Illumi to the door.

Hisoka-fucking-Morow. The bane of Killua’s existence ever since that stunt he pulled with Illumi that put Killua under constant supervision. Hisoka Morow, who was now standing in front of him looking smug as hell, an elbow propped against the doorframe and a hand in his ginger hair.

And then, as if it couldn’t get any worse, he said: 

“Well if it isn’t my favorite cock slut.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHAT SHOULD IT BE: Shower sex, semi-public sex, or should we get Retz back here?? Or something else entirely?? I'M NOT STARTING THE NEXT CHAPTER UNTIL YOU TELL ME!! Because I don't know!
> 
> Edit: idk how many of you are gonna reread this chapter, but UPDATE: I tend to go through periods where I can write smut, and I've reached the end of that period. I don't think I'll be able to continue writing Tease until that phase returns to me!! I'll try my best in the meantime :) Thanks for all the love on this fic!


	14. On The Lam (i.e. The D)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killua's on the lam, Illumi's out to get him, and Zushi's here to be a dramatic little shit. Nothing new, really.

“H-Hisoka—what’re you doing in my apartment?” Killua said, eyes wide. He narrowed them as Illumi came into view, tugging Hisoka back by the shoulder. “Dude, what the hell? I figured ‘no guests’ goes without saying. What the fuck’s Hisoka doing in New York?”

Hisoka tipped his head onto Illumi’s shoulder. Illumi glowered at something in the distance as Hisoka said, “We flew together.”

_You’re kidding_, Killua thought, looking at Illumi. Illumi dragged his dull, tired eyes over to Killua. _Please tell me you’re kidding_, he thought, louder this time, hoping his brother could hear him with that weird telepathic thing he did every now and then.

“He’s staying at a hotel in Times Square,” Illumi explained. “Us flying together was merely coincidence.”

“Right,” Killua said, unconvinced. “Well, if Hisoka’s here, I’m leaving—”

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Hisoka said, reaching a hand out to catch Killua by the sleeve. He started tugging Killua over the threshold, but Killua dug his heels in and fought it like a feral cat. “Tell me _all_ about you and Freakss—”

“I told you—they aren't seeing each other anymore,” Illumi insisted. 

“A little birdie told me—” Hisoka started, and Killua gave up fighting to fling himself at Hisoka and slap a hand over the blundering idiot's mouth.

Killua offered a sharp, splintering smile to his brother, but only found Illumi glaring at him, arms crossed. And, then, he felt something warm and _wet_ on his palm and yanked it away from where Hisoka had his tongue out. 

Hisoka's lips pulled into a shit-eating grin. “I can only imagine where that hand was today,” he said, and Killua shuddered in disgust. He wanted to punt Hisoka's ass out the window, but he wasn’t about to get sent to prison over _this_ dipshit.

“Did you really see him?” Illumi asked, as if it was even a question. They all knew. The whole goddamn _internet_ knew. 

Killua tossed his phone onto the futon and rubbed his hand off on his jeans, hissing, “_Yes_, okay? Does it really matter?”

“It matters because—”

“What, he’ll post a video of it? Is that it?” Killua said, voice raising. “I signed a fucking contract—you think I don’t know what I signed up for, is that it? We didn't record anything today!”

“You don't know that,” Illumi said.

Killua rolled his eyes. He couldn’t even _begin_ to imagine a world in which Gon Freecss was capable of that sort of deviousness. His mind was too exhausted to deal with Illumi _or_ Hisoka's bullshit, but even as he tried to escape it, Illumi followed him to the kitchen. Hisoka lingered in the living space and seemed to study Killua’s bed like it was something to conquer. 

Killua eyed Hisoka suspiciously until Illumi stepped into his view of Hisoka catching him staring and offering a small, suggestive wave. Killua narrowed his eyes at Illumi.

“You’re clearly no better,” Killua said. “Talk to me when you take your own goddamn advice.”

“Hisoka and I are not sleeping together,” Illumi said, dully.

“That’s what you think,” Hisoka murmured from where he was now reclining back on Killua’s bed so Killua could see him wink. 

Killua leant to the side so he was in full view of Hisoka and said, “You’re a goddamn abomination.”

Hisoka put a finger to his lip but didn’t seem all that surprised.

Killua hadn’t even set down his things, and the realization that he could just up and leave hit him. He turned to Illumi and said, “I’m leaving, and this isn’t up for discussion. I don’t need your help, nor do I want it, alright?”

“No, not ‘alright’,” Illumi said, but Killua was already heading for the door. Illumi chased him out through the door and to the stairwell, and followed him all the way to the first floor as he said, “When have I ever been wrong before when it came to helping you improve your life? Are you really going to throw away all of the improvements you’ve made just to get _laid_? Killua—you can’t trust someone who makes _money_ off of sex. If anything, take Hisoka for example.”

“Guilty,” Hisoka sang from the floor above, leaning over the railing. Killua looked up through the stairwell and found Hisoka grinning down at him. Killua flipped him off. 

Illumi beat him to the door and stood in front of it, hands to either side of the doorframe. Killua sighed, rolling his eyes as Illumi said, “You’re making a massive mistake and I _know_ you know it. Becoming a porn star isn’t exactly a person’s _number one goal in life_.”

“It is if you’re me,” Hisoka chimed from the second floor.

Illumi and Killua stared dully at one another. _At least we can agree on one thing_, Killua thought. 

He sucked in a deep breath and said with as much conviction as possible, “I’m _not_ becoming a porn star. You jumped to that conclusion all on your own.”

“You’ve already got one video up on the _world wide web_, how much will it take for you to post another? Trouble making rent, need to buy a car, a plane ticket…” Illumi droned with a roll of his eyes. Killua gritted his teeth. Of course his brother could see right through him. He almost wondered if Illumi knew the exact reason why he agreed to sign Gon’s contract—aside from wanted to be dicked. 

“If you’re so damn worried, I’ll just get a regular job. Would that suffice?” Killua asked.

“Depends on the job.”

“Maybe a barista? I have no clue. If I’ve got an income of some kind, finances won’t be a reason for me to get laid and I can just get laid on my own terms.”

Illumi put a hand to his face and sighed. “You’re missing the _point_.”

“What _goddamn point?_ That I’m horny?” Killua said. 

Maniacal laughter cackled from the second floor. Illumi crossed an arm over his chest and sighed again, a hand to his cheek. “Killua…”

“Unless you want to go to a sex shop with me and buy me _toys—_”

“Now you’re just being unreasonable. I know what you’re trying to do.”

“What’s that?”

“You’re trying to make me uncomfortable so that I won’t question you. You forget I live with Milluki three months out of the year.”

Killua leaned in and whispered, “I don’t give a shit. Out of my way.”

He dove for the edge of the doorframe, underneath Illumi’s arm. Illumi put his hip out, pinning Killua to the door. Killua grunted with a curse as Illumi said, “No! You’re—staying—here—!” and went to grab him around the neck. Killua ducked his head and staggered out into the street, portfolio bag hooked under one arm, and the other fending off Illumi.

He escaped Illumi’s hold and ran for it. He went careening around the street corner and down the sidewalk, thankful that he was fully suited for it—his backpack on, portfolio bag at his side, and sneakers on his feet. Unlike him, Illumi was _not_ wearing shoes and, therefore, was forced to stop at the street corner to watch Killua race down the New York City streets like a liberated man.

Killua hit the intersection just as the walk sign blinked on. Once across, he flew down the nearest subway stairwell, portfolio bag flopping at his side, and took a second to breathe at the end, panting, his breath sharp in his throat from the cool, winter air. He leant back, a hand on his hips, and laughed. He laughed so hard his stomach hurt and strangers passing by quickened their steps past him and stared from over their shoulders. 

After sobering up, he brushed tears from his eyes and kept walking. _Well, now that I’m officially homeless for the time being_… he thought, reaching for his phone. There were very few people he could call in that moment, especially when he was trying to—

—avoid Illumi.

His phone was on the futon, back at the apartment. It was for the better, considering Illumi could have it tracked, but it still unnerved him to be out in New York City without it, in the _subways_ without it. 

He swallowed hard and decided a few crucial things that started and ended with one simple fact: That he needed to go some place where Illumi wouldn’t find him.

* * *

“Killua! I-I wasn’t expecting—I thought you were gonna hang out with Illumi?” 

Killua felt embarrassment flush up his neck from where his chest tightened and every part of him grew tense. Here he had been fully prepared to leave things as they were, as hilariously mortifying as it was. 

But there he was, standing opposite Gon Freecss at the threshold of the guy’s apartment. Gon was wearing sweatpants and… nothing else, aside from that startled expression.

Killua swallowed hard and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, about that… Do you know a guy named Hisoka, by any chance?” 

“Hisoka?” Gon rasped, sounding more than a little stunned. He moved asideand gestured for Killua to come in. Killua shuffled over the threshold, kicked off his shoes, and set his portfolio bag against the wall. 

The instant the door was closed, Gon said, “Yeah, he’s my mentor. I only met him once, and it was for the Playboy shoot.”

“He was in that?” Killua said, eyes wide. It made sense, though. The timeline matched up with Illumi showing up out of the blue. Still, he hadn’t seen any photos on Gon’s computer with Hisoka in them.

But then again, Gon was only given samples—ones that _Gon_ was in.

“His username is Penniwise—how do you know him by his real name?” Gon asked, following close behind Killua as he went for the Sunny D in the refrigerator. 

“Well, for one, I grew up with that rat bastard,” Killua sighed. He changed his mind the instant he had the Sunny D by the handle. He put it back and reached for the schnops in the door of the refrigerator. “He recognized my voice on the video, called my brother, and now here we fucking are.”

Gon’s mouth fell open as Killua put the bottle to his lips and took a shot. He cut himself off after one, mostly because he wasn’t used to the horrific taste anymore. He pulled the bottle back with a disgusted gasp, licking his lips. The booze burned every part of his esophagus down to his stomach and straight to his liver. 

He put the schnops back and shook his head to clear his expression. Blinking fast, he shut the refrigerator door and felt just a touch better. He’d find out as soon as the alcohol kicked in.

“You… know Hisoka—holy shit,” Gon said, half-laughing. He put a hand to his cheek and dragged it over his mouth, his eyes stuck on Killua. Killua sighed.

“Yeah, so…” he said, awkwardly, rolling his eyes. “I don’t want to get in your way or anything, but I don’t have my phone on me. I was thinking about texting Kurapika, but I’d need to borrow your phone.”

“You aren’t bothering me. I’m just—surprised,” Gon insisted, waving his hands dismissively. “You can stay here, if you want. I won’t force you to, though. I mean, your toothbrush basically lives in my bathroom now.”

Killua groaned. “Fuck, I keep forgetting it. Sorry—”

“Don’t apologize! It’s kinda cute, honestly.”

Killua turned and walked across the living room so Gon wouldn’t have to see the look on his face that said that he was thoroughly cheesing about Gon calling him cute. Who _does_ that? It made him feel all fluffy inside. He’d get a cavity for sure off of this tooth-rotting sweetness. 

The clock was spilling over midnight and into one in the morning. Gon’s room was in a dim, ambient glow from his desk lights, which were muted by thin, fabric covers. His video editing software was open, and as always, Killua became distracted by it. He shrugged off his backpack as Gon came to join him in the bedroom and caught him staring at the computer again. 

It was the video of them, just that day. Killua shivered at the frame Gon paused on—of Killua on his knees between Gon’s thighs. The gleam of sweat on them, and Gon, handcuffed to the bed frame. 

“Holy shit,” he said, pointing to the screen. “That’s sexy.”

“You think so?”

“Hell yeah. Are you going frame-by-frame trying to figure out when I ripped your anus?” Killua said, leaning over the office chair to scrub through the timeline. 

Gon threw his head back and laughed. “No, I’m just editing it. It’s relaxing, for me anyway.”

“Hey, no shade, dude,” Killua said. Gon always used two cameras when recording, and one cut in close for a partially obscured angle of Killua’s penis on the backwards-thrust. He looked like a porn star. “I kind of want you to post it.”

Gon laughed. “Yeah, no. I’m not blurring your face for it.”

“No, I mean—just keep my face in it,” Killua said, shaking his head. 

He turned back to Gon, who was staring at him with wide, brown eyes. Killua’s eyes dipped, down to Gon’s firm, defined abdomen. He bit his bottom lip and dragged his attention back up to where Gon swallowed hard and shook his head. 

“Yeah, not happening,” Gon said. “And you just took a shot anyway—”

Killua scoffed. “Oh, boo-hoo—one shot isn’t gonna do anything. Give it a few minutes to settle in. This is me completely sober telling you to post it when you’re done editing.”

Gon flopped back on the bed and pointed a finger at Killua. "This isn't up for discussion.”

Killua ground his teeth together and turned away. One thing was certain: His main concern about having his face broadcasted in porn was now up in the air. Illumi knew, and there was little Killua could do about that now. Hisoka knew, and he realized that it was only a matter of time before Hisoka did something stupid, like post is social security number on the world wide web.

Killua tapped his fingers on the edge of the desk. He looked from the keyboard to where Gon’s phone sat, idle, next to it. He picked up Gon’s phone.

It was unlocked already, and his Twitter timeline was open. Killua exited out and opened the camera. He pretended to scrub through the video, completely blocking Gon from the view of his phone in Killua’s hand. Killua propped an elbow onto the back of the office chair, the heel of his palm against his jawline, and his fingers curled against his cheek. The lighting was superb, so he took the photo, dropped it into a new tweet, and captioned it, “Hijacked Freakss’ phone. It’s ya boy from the super gay HUNter video.”

He posted it. 

He pushed off of the chair, walked to the bed, and tossed Gon’s phone onto his stomach. It slapped a gasp out of Gon, who bolted upright, staring at it, and then up at Killua, who crawled onto the bed, exhausted. Gon turned the phone around and whispered, “What did you do.”

“Absolutely nothing,” Killua sighed, dreamily, and hugged a nearby pillow. 

He shut his eyes and listened to the silence. Not a single thing stirred in the room when Killua nestled in for sleep, and he couldn’t quite fathom what was going through Gon’s brain now. He peeked open one eye and caught Gon staring at his phone screen, thoroughly horrified.

“K-Killua, I—” Gon started, strained. He rubbed a hand over his forehead and said, “I didn’t _want_ people to know what you looked like.”

The tension in his voice had Killua straightening up onto one elbow. “Why not?” he said. “It doesn’t matter anymore. Illumi knows it’s me.”

“It’s—I liked… knowing that _I_ was the only person who knew,” Gon explained, eyes closed. He opend them to meet Killua’s startled gaze. “I liked being the only one who had the full picture.”

“That—” _That's so gay_, he thought, which was promptly followed by, _He doesn’t realize that's gay, does he?_ “That’s selfish, Gon.”

Gon’s brow furrowed. He tossed his phone aside to climb up next to Killua, who slumped back against the pillows as Gon pinned him with a hand to his shoulder. “I don’t _care_,” Gon said, sharply, and Killua shivered at the intensity of Gon’s voice so low in his ear. “If I could, I would have put it in the contract.”

“Tough nuts, dude,” Killua said. “Delete it if you’re so damn mad about it.”

“It doesn’t _matter_ anymore. People have already seen it and someone probably saved the picture. It doesn’t _matter anymore_,” Gon said, sitting back on his heels. He rubbed his hands over his eyes and groaned. “I’m so _mad_ at you right now, Killua. I don’t know how to describe it. And you used my account to do it too—”

“I’m sorry for borrowing your phone, but I’m not apologizing for posting that picture of me,” Killua said. 

Gon dropped his hands to his lap and pouted. Killua sighed, shoulders slumping. _He’s acting like a child_, he thought, wondering just how many times Gon got his way. He was charismatic, handsome, sweet—the odds were stacked in Gon’s favor, but it was too late for Killua to give in over the Twitter face reveal. 

He pushed himself forward, the comforter rustling on his lap. “It’s _my_ face, Gon. _My_ reputation.”

“Are you doing this just to get back at your brother?” Gon asked, quietly.

Killua shrugged. “Partially, but mostly it’s just me realizing that… I get to do whatever the hell I want with my reputation, and I say fuck it—and fuck you for thinking otherwise. This is _my_ call, not yours.”

“It doesn’t make me any less upset by it,” he said, his voice reduced to a whisper. Killua held his breath as Gon’s eyes scanned his face, his hair, his lips. “I’m fine with people sexualizing me and inserting me into their weird sex fantasies, but… I don’t know. I just don’t like the idea of them doing that with you.”

Killua snickered. “It’s flattering. I kinda like it.”

“What if people recognize you on the streets and insult you or make you uncomfortable?”

“I have two perfectly capable legs to kick them with and functional vocal cords to scream _really_ loudly that they watch gay porn.”

Gon laughed. Killua smiled and said, “I’m going to sleep now. Keep working, or whatever. I don’t mind the white noise.”

Gon glanced back at his computer screen, which had faded to black during their argument. He sighed and tipped to the side, onto the comforter. “Nah, I wanna lay here,” he said. 

Killua stretched out, his hands behind his head. He stared up at the curtains with Gon at his side. He could feel the heat of Gon’s shoulder near his ribcage. After a moment, he heard Gon shift, his eyes turning to look up at Killua.

“You didn’t blacklist cuddling on your contract,” Gon said. 

Killua raised an eyebrow and squinted down at Gon, who stared up at him like a puppy asking for permission. He shuffled a little, putting an arm out to the side—an open gesture for Gon to move closer. Gon turned on his side, a hand over Killua's stomach and the other stretched across, his elbow pressed to Killua's opposite oblique. 

After a moment, Killua dropped his hand over Gon’s shoulder blades, his fingers clammy against Gon's smooth, tanned skin.

They spent the night in that same exact position until morning came and Killua's joints became stiff from sleeping like the dead. He curled his toes and stretched out with a low groan that awoke Gon from his slumber. He reached over and checked the time on Gon’s phone. He and Zushi had an afternoon drawing session that Saturday, but for now… he could sleep. 

The morning was lazy and slow. When they finally did rise from bed, it was because Gon could feel Killua’s stomach growling against his arm, so he got up to make pancakes. Killua yawned from the bed and rolled off to join him. 

After breakfast, they brushed their teeth, standing side-by-side in Gon’s bathroom to share the sink. It made Killua feel all fuzzy again, like when Gon called him cute. It was domestic and weird and not… _entirely_ unpleasant. He could manage this subtle, warm blur spreading across his chest, but he could only manage it knowing that it was temporary. He’d be back in his apartment eventually, and they’d have their own space again. It would give Killua space to reassert the distance required to continue fucking with Gon, no strings attached.

While Killua bullshitted on his computer, Gon went back to editing the video, knees pulled up to his chest, feet on the edge of his office chair. It was weird how familiar Killua was with Gon’s bed. He felt at ease, flopped over on his stomach, legs crossed at the ankles. 

But it couldn’t last forever, so before noon, Killua was up, packing, and on his way to campus. Before leaving, Gon twisted around in his chair and said, “You know you can stay here as long as you want, right? I can order a spare key?”

A spare key meant more to Killua than it likely did to Gon. 

“Don’t… get a spare key. That’s weird,” Killua said, grimacing. “I’ll just talk to you later. I’ll be hanging out with Zushi so—”

“Wait—Zushi doesn't have my number. I'll write it down for you,” Gon said, grabbing a pen. He marched across the room to where Killua stood, dumbfounded, in the doorway to the bedroom. He took Killua by the hand and put the ink to Killua’s skin. He wrote out the digits that Killua remembered putting in his own phone however many months ago. 

Killua studied the numbers on his walk to campus. He continued to stare at them absently, when he found his mind drifting. His mind was scattering as he opened his tin of vine charcoal, and it was then that Zushi’s voice registered in his head.

“Is it weird that I watch your porn?” Zushi said. It was a miracle that none of the other students were around. 

Killua paused. He looked up from his tin of charcoal and found Zushi staring at him. Zushi blinked owlishly and put a finger to his chin. 

“What… do you mean?” Killua said. 

“That video that came out this morning. Your face was on it so I subscribed to Gon so I could watch it—”

“_What_,” Killua cried, voice breaking. He dropped his charcoal on the table and dove for his backpack. In doing so, he smeared charcoal over the keyboard of his laptop as he opened an incognito tab to search for Freakss’ profile on HUNter. Zushi stepped over to watch, but Killua shoved him back by the shoulder and held him at arms length while he scanned Gon’s recent releases.

Gon never posted on Saturdays.

But sure enough, there it was, the video Gon had been editing the night before. 

“You _watched it?!_” Killua shrieked, jaw in his lap. 

Zushi yelped, backing up behind his desk. “I was curious!”

Killua’s eye twitched. “You know what they say about _curiosity_?”

“That it… killed the cat—_KILLUA! AH!_” Zushi screamed, ducking when Killua wound a colored pencil back and flung it at Zushi from across the table. Zushi ran for it, and Killua kept chucking pencils, one after the other, as each one bounced off of tables and floors, clattering across the room.

Zushi ran, screaming, across the studio with Killua on his heels. A pencil jabbed Zushi in the back of the neck and he cried, “_AYE!_ You got me! You got me—I surrender!”

“You’re not—supposed to know—what my _dick looks like!_” Killua screamed and he threw a handful of Prisma colored pencils over the table. They clattered in a rainbow against the wall and agaisnt the top of Zushi’s head when he tried to avoid the spray.

They were screaming and running like chickens with their heads cut off for a solid fifteen minutes before Killua pinned Zushi at the windowsill, bouncing left to right, trying to fake him out. His ammunition was out. Zushi screamed and ran for the door, but Killua cut him off and latched his arms around Zushi’s midsection and swung his feet off of the ground. They were both out of breath, but Killua held on tight until Zushi calmed down enough to say, “Alright! I admit it! I watched the whole damn thing, even the Anal Journal Commentary at the end!”

“What the hell does that mean?!” Killua squeaked, horrified. 

“The follow-up vlog about how you tore his ass in two and had to go to the clinic for it,” Zushi said, as if Killua knew what the hell he was talking about. 

Killua set Zushi on the ground and, panting, went back to his laptop. Zushi trailed along with him, but kept his distance as Killua opened up the video. The recording Killua had seen on Gon’s laptop had been only a small part of a longer video, one that started with a video of Gon in a hospital gown in an empty clinic room. 

A record scratch played over a glitched screencapture of Gon pointing finger guns at the floorlength mirror. 

“_Now, you’re probably wondering how I wound up at the clinic, and I’ll show you why. Rewind back to an hour ago—when I was coerced into trying anal for the first time_.” The recording skidded back to a black screen and audio of Killua saying, “_I’m not just gonna shove it in there when I don't know where to aim_.” 

Killua slapped a hand over his face. The black screen blinked to a shot of Gon alone on the bed, the camera positioned so that the viewer could see the bathroom light on, and Killua emerging from it. The video paused and zoomed in on Killua’s pixelated face. “Jesus Christ, Gon,” Killua groaned. “I can’t believe he turned it into a comedy skit.”

“Sh, sh, keep watching,” Zushi insisted, waving his hand about. 

“I know what the fuck happens, alright,” Killua said, and scrubbed over the timeline. Zushi groaned, but Killua kept going until the part where Killua handed over a clean cloth to Gon: the moment they both realized that they had made a grave mistake. 

Immediately after, the camera sped forward to Gon and Killua dressing to head out to the clinic. Before leaving, Gon approached the camera, looked the lens and all of his viewers in the eye, grimaced, and shut the camera off. The screen went blank.

And then, they were watching Gon check his ass out in the hospital mirror in one of those hospital gowns with no back. Gon zoomed in on his face and said, “_I may or may not have tore the lining of my anus. Considering there was still lube in my ass the doctor thinks we went too fast._”

“I’m not watching this with you,” Killua said, about to shut his laptop. 

Zushi shushed him and swatted his hand away from the screen, saying, “You’re an icon. You tore a porn star’s ass in two.”

Killua glared at him and said, “You know I don’t have to listen to you, right?”

Despite his annoyance, they watched the rest of the video together, sitting at the studio desk, listening to Gon’s follow-up that same morning when the sun was out and Killua was either A) in the shower or B) already gone. 

Gon set his camera up on the countertop and took a massive gulp of water from his water bottle. Afterwards, he slammed the bottle down and said, “_So anal fissures are kind of a bitch, but they heal pretty fast. They also require a specific diet, and my current diet is pretty spot on for this sort of thing. Lots of water, for one, and a fiber-rich diet. One new detail, however, is that I have to take three sitz baths a day. I’ve always lived by the expectations that baths are only for when you get Lush products as holiday gifts, but since I can’t use soap down there… it’ll just be me, a few inches of water, and a smoothie._”

The video dipped into a time lapse of Gon making a smoothie. Killua rose an eyebrow at Zushi, who wiggled his eyebrows back. Killua pointed to the screen and said, “I don’t know when the fuck he had time to do this. I was at his place until an hour before I came here.”

“Don’t question it,” Zushi whispered. 

The video concluded with Gon submerging himself in a bath lined with candles. It was so damn extra, especially with the mood lighting and the old fashioned filter Gon put on the video. To top it off, Gon slicked his black hair back like he was on some risqué period film. His smoothie was in a goddamn wine glass. 

He raised the glass to cheer his viewers before the video ended. 

“I feel like I lost at least seven braincells watching that,” Killua said, his hands over his face.

“Really? I feel like I gained seven. I learned something new.”

“Like _what?_”

“How to prevent constipation-induced anal fissures,” he said. 

Killua went for his pencil case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Killua: "Don't worry Illumi, I'm not gonna become a porn star."  
Killua, an hour later: "Gon, make me a porn star."
> 
> IN OTHER NEWS, SORRY I VANISHED. I don't think I'm in the vibe yet to write smut, but I wanted to update so HERE WE ARE. If you wanna keep up to date on what the hell I'm doing (I don't know why you would) I have a [Discord server!](https://discord.gg/e7EGU35) Join us!! I have more fics on a different account, but I don't want to link/mention that account on this saucy one lol SO THE LINKS ARE ON THE SERVER.


	15. Recipe For Disaster: Fire Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gon makes a surprise visit.

Killua stayed at the studio late that evening, long after the sun went down outside of the curtained windows. Zushi left around dinner time, since he didn’t come equipped with food. Killua hadn’t, either—it was difficult to meal prep when he wasn’t even staying at his usual apartment. He didn’t want to diminish Gon’s food supply, either, so he ordered food to be delivered to the building, and only left the room to fetch it. 

As he ate, he pulled the window curtains aside and took a seat on the drafty windowsill. His sweater was warm enough to ward off the frost encroaching on the windowpane. He pushed his sleeves up and dug in, munching contently on a bowl of sweet and sour chicken. 

The snow outside was flickering around street lamps and traffic lights down at the nearby intersection. Killua watched one particular vehicle turn the corner as he popped a piece of chicken into his mouth. In the middle of slurping up low mein noodles, the Lyft parked just outside of the arts building at the short, curved entrance that pulled off of the main street. The back door opened and Killua choked at the sight of Gon stepping out. 

“_Gon?_” Killua rasped, coughing. He pushed off of the window sill just as he caught sight of Gon looking up the side of the building, likely wondering which exact room Killua was in. 

Killua hurried across the room, pushing his dinner aside, wiping his mouth clean on the sleeve of his sweatshirt, and taking his student card with him out of the room. The door locked behind him as he jogged to the atrium. 

Once there, he skidded up to the railing that overlooked the ground floor. The place was empty all except for a few stragglers and the janitor that was finishing up down the basement stairs where the ceramic lockers were. The front door pushed open and sure as shit, there was Gon Freecss in a derpy-looking peacoat, skinny jeans, and winter boots. His backpack was slung over one shoulder as he scanned the atrium, lifted his eyes, and caught sight of Killua standing there looking absolutely _baffled_.

Killua threw his arms up. “Dude, what the hell’re you doing here?” he said, voice echoing across the atrium. 

“It’s snowing,” Gon called back as he started for the stairs.

Killua gestured to the stretch of windows above the entrance. “Uh, yeah, no shit. _Why_ are you here though?”

Gon jogged up the steps and spun around the railing. Now close enough for private conversation, Gon smiled and leant an elbow against the railing next to Killua, saying, “‘Cause it's snowing and you don’t have your phone. So you were probably gonna walk to the subway and the two blocks to my apartment.”

What was this sensation mulling in his chest? It felt a lot like a gong being struck, and for a moment, Killua lost all sense of his vocal chords. He wrangled his voice back together by clearing his throat and rasping with a laugh, “I _don’t_ need a personal Lyft chauffeur, thank you very much. And who says I'm going back to your place anyway?”

“Aren’t you though?” Gon said, and _fuck_, was he _really_ staring at Killua’s lips that entire time? Killua licked his bottom lip and glanced down at the ground floor, ears flushed red hot. “I really meant it, you know. That you can stay at my place. I haven’t had a roommate in a while.”

“Yeah, well, we aren’t roommates,” Killua muttered, rolling his eyes back to Gon. “And it’s temporary.”

“Right, yeah, that’s what I meant.”

“Right,” he said. 

They stared at one another until Gon straightened with a sigh, pushing a hand against the railing. He tipped his head towards the hallway and asked, “So where’s your stuff?”

Killua kicked into gear. He hurried down the hallway, suddenly aware that he was an absolute chalky mess. He ran his hands down the front of his black tshirt, but that did little good. “I was just, uh, eating and working on a project. I just gotta clean up.”_ And get this fucking charcoal off my hands_, he thought, the pads of his thumbs colored a dense, opacque black.

“No rush—take your time,” Gon said. 

Killua scanned his student card on the sensor next to the door. When it clicked, he pushed the door open with his hip and held it for Gon, who wandered in after him with a hint of intrigue in his expression as he examined the door and the windows on either side of it. He tugged absently at the blinds as Killua hurried across the room to his table. 

The lights in the room were all off except for the spotlights on the still life. Killua flicked on the cabinet lights over the sink on his way to his table. His pencils were already riddled with charcoal, so he figured it’d make sense to get those stowed away before washing his hands—

“So are there any night classes in this building?” Gon asked.

Killua looked up, distracted. Gon was by the windows overlooking the streets. Some were half-covered with blinds from when he and Zushi were working—the sunlight and street lamps didn’t exactly _help_ the concept of a still life. “Uh, no, there aren’t. Classes end at six most days,” Killua said. “And no weekend classes, either. The building locks at seven.”

Gon hummed as he pulled the blinds with him as he walked down the length of windows. Killua stacked his pencils up and rolled them into his pencil case. He tied the case around the waist and stuck it in his backpack as the curtains all rattled on the pole until Gon let go. 

“I really have no fucking idea when my brother’s going back to LA. I might have to call my sister. She might know,” Killua said with a sigh. He rubbed the back of his wrist over his forehead. “But until then I should probably go grocery shopping so I don't eat up all your food—”

His breath hitched. Gon’s cold, long fingers were grazing his hipbone, his palm moulding over his waist and radiating the cold from outside through the fabric of his jeans. 

Gon’s breath was _hot_, though, as it whispered across Killua’s neck above the hood on his Yorknew University sweatshirt. Killua’s breath shuddered out of him, only to suck back in when Gon pulled him firmly to the front of his jeans, the buttons of his jacket already undone. He closed his eyes to the sensation of Gon’s tongue licking a hot stripe up to his earlobe. Gon nipped at the cartilage as he said, “I’ve got my camera and a tripod in my backpack.”

_Holy shit_, Killua thought, eyes widening. The way he flustered said everything—_fuck yes_ with a side of _fuck me_. Instead, he cleared his throat, voice cracking as he said, “What, uh—what else do you have in there?”

He felt Gon’s lips spread into a smile against his cheek. “Lube and a condom. Or two.”

Killua let out a short laugh and rolled his eyes towards the door. Locked, and the curtains already drawn. To top it off, only students in his class could scan their cards on that door—none of which were likely to be making a pitstop at nine in the goddamn evening on the weekend. 

Killua turned and put his back against the edge of the drafting table. Gon tipped his head to the side, his bright, brown eyes settling on Killua’s. Killua shuddered and felt his knees grow weak. He put a hand to the edge of the table to steady himself as he swallowed hard. He couldn’t say no, nor did he want to. 

Logic told him to stop, though. Take a breather. Rewind, back to _before_. When Killua hadn’t told Gon to back the fuck up or risk getting emotionally wound up. 

_Too late._

“Yeah, let’s do it,” Killua said.

Gon slipped his backpack off of his shoulders. Killua took it and unzipped the main pocket as Gon shed his coat and sneakers. As Killua extracted the camera from its case, they debated the logistics of it—of the “scene”, as it were—and picked the table behind the still life, where the spotlights still reached. Would they strip entirely, or only partially? 

“Completely,” Gon said.

“Partially,” Killua said. Gon gave him a dull look. “It’s practical! What if someone walks in on us?” Killua said.

“Then they can watch.”

Killua grabbed at his pencil bag to chuck a piece of vine charcoal at Gon. It hit him in the forehead and cracked in half, leaving behind a thin, black, powdered stripe. “Hey!” Gon laughed, rubbing at it. It only made the situation worse. 

Killua threw his head back and cracked up laughing. Try as he might, he couldn’t smother it. He dropped his pencil bag back into his backpack so he could clasp a hand over his mouth, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes as he gasped, “O-Oh my God—your _face!_”

The recording light flickered on Gon’s camera before he was walking around the table, saying, “You’re no better—you’ve got charcoal all over your cheek.”

_Shit_, Killua realized, pulling his hand away from his mouth. Sure enough, his fingertips now spotted his cheek. 

Gon laughed and tugged Killua forward by the wrists. Killua staggered after him, towards the spotlights where Gon licked up the side of his face and left a stripe of drying saliva on his cheek. Killua groaned as Gon said, “Mm, tastes like _dirt_.”

“Gross!” Killua laughed, shoving his hand into Gon’s face. He smudged charcoal over Gon’s nose and blended it under his eyes. All the while, his heart crackled in his chest like fireworks, jittery and impatient and altogether _energized_ by the fact that Gon _let him_ act like an absolute imbecile when they were two minutes away from screwing in a university classroom.

Killua looked over Gon’s shoulder at the camera, which was mounted on the tripod on top of a nearby table. “Are you sure we’re in the frame?” he asked, looking back at Gon.

“Yeah, take off your clothes,” he said, already tugging at the hem of Killua’s shirt. 

Killua peeled his shirt up over his head. The air in the studio was cool and crisp, and speckled goosebumps up his arms. Likewise, Gon tugged his shirt up over his head and tossed it aside in favor of running his hands up Killua’s arms. His palms had gone from icy cold to warm in a matter of minutes, and it soothed the chill that was sinking in as more and more of Killua’s skin became exposed.

“F-Fuck,” Killua stammered, every part of him quivering when Gon pushed him back against the table, slotted between Killua’s spread legs. He put his hands back to steady himself as Gon’s hands hooked under his thighs and hoisted him up. 

“What is it?” Gon asked, looking so damn breathtaking with that crooked smile, shirtless, hair askew from his discarded shirt. 

“Bit cold,” he admitted, his smile more coy than he intended. 

When Gon leaned in, Killua’s eyes closed on their own accord before Gon’s lips ever touched his. Gon breathed into his mouth, “I’ll warm you up,” as he unzipped Killua’s jeans.

Killua opened his mouth to the kiss, shivering at the audible sound of their lips parting with each slow, lengthy kiss. He passed his tongue along his bottom lip just as Gon did the same. Killua laughed, giddiness bubbling up in his chest like he had the maturity of a schoolgirl. 

He leant back as Gon tugged at the hem of his jeans, pulling his boxers with it. He lifted his hips up and shimmied out, his bare asscheeks on the table. It felt _weird_, like being at a doctor’s office, but the setting was so far from that. 

He slipped his feet out of the jeans and Gon dropped them to the floor along with his own. Killua laughed when he didn't take off his socks. “Dude, what the fuck? Take those off.”

“No—the floor’s dirty,” Gon said. 

“You’re not the one with your bare ass on the table, for Chrissake,” Killua said.

Gon uncapped the lube, completely ignoring the request for No Socks. He warmed the lube in his closed fist, rubbing his fingers through it as he grinned down at Killua and leaned forward, easing Killua back until he was on his elbows, swallowing hard at the sight of Gon with his dick out in the middle of his university studio still life. 

His mouth watered. He swallowed again, his eyes turning back up to meet Gon’s just before he rubbed his fingers against the sensitive skin on his inner thighs, slicking them down to his ass. With his free hand, Gon tugged Killua’s leg up, close to his bare hip where Killua could hook his ankle around. The camera was from the other angle anyway, where Killua’s opposite knee couldn’t quite obscure the view of Gon’s finger slipping in and dragging out with a low groan from Killua. 

Gon nipped at the soft skin on the side of Killua’s neck before moving down, slowly, laving his tongue across every square inch of Killua’s skin he came across. Killua dug his fingers into Gon’s bicep, leaving behind streaks of black charcoal when he reached up to sooth his hands down Gon’s shoulderblades, along his spine, as Gon dropped low to his knees.

His slicked hand left a trail of shiny fluid up the side of Killua’s hip, in view of the camera where Killua’s flushed erection was given a _flawless_ profile for everyone to eventually see being sucked into Gon’s mouth. 

He gave Killua’s cock one firm suck before popping off and licking it up the underside. Killua dug his fingers into Gon’s hair, shivering with anticipation and _swelteringly_ hot all over despite the goosebumps peppering every inch of his skin.

When Gon went to cater to Killua’s inner thigh, he knew he was done for. He put his head back with a groan, his legs _trembling_. “F-Freakss, come on,” he said, both thoroughly annoyed and thoroughly turned on. Of all of the times and places to tease him, a university studio was _not_ the place to draw this out.

Gon hummed, and Killua felt it on the junction of his thigh to his hip bone where Gon’s lips kissed the pale skin there. “Hm… what was that?” Gon purred, lapping wet kisses within proximity to his dick. 

“Gon I swear to _God—_”

“What’s my name?” he said, pushing back up. Killua hooked his leg back around Gon’s waist, shaking and shivering at the touch of Gon's fingers drawing circles up his leg. 

As Gon reached for the lube again, he kissed beneath Killua’s chin and nosed his way up, nestling his lips against Killua’s jawline as Killua lowered back, all the damn way until his shoulder blades touched the freezing tabletop.

“Fuck, sorry,” Killua said.

“It's okay,” Gon said, quietly, breathing it against Killua’s skin. “I’ll mute it—or you can just _moan _‘Freakss’ a dozen times and I’ll lay it over—”

“Oh really? Are you sure you won’t make it your ringtone, you egotistic piece of shit?” Killua laughed, only for every word to be ripped out of his throat in a gasp when Gon’s lubed dick pushed in an inch without warning. “_Fuck_, Gon—Shit, I mean—”

Gon laughed, and if Killua’s sanity wasn’t melting all over the table, he would have laughed too. 

They shifted—Killua closer to the edge of the table and Gon resituating his hand on Killua’s leg for leverage. In doing so, Killua pushed down on the length of Gon’s dick until he was seated and settled with that _glorious_ friction against his prostate. He laid himself back down, trembling, his head thrown back with a low groan of contentment. He could have stayed in that position for _ages_ but before he could even admit to that, Gon took him by the hips and pushed the last three inches in until Killua could feel Gon’s ballsack against his own skin.

Gon rocked his hips against Killua’s in shallow, slow circles, and the motion had Killua gripping at the edge of the table, throwing one hand back to grasp the edge over his head. He panted, arousal stirring in his gut where the stimulation set his body on fire with pure, unadulterated _delight_. 

“How’s that?” Gon asked, his voice raw and sexy and barely above a whisper.

“_Fuck_, yes, that’s good—harder,” Killua said.

“You sure?”

“_Yes_,” Killua hissed, digging his heel into Gon’s lower back. 

He angled himself, legs spread wider, toes curling as Gon pulled back, grazing every inch of himself against Killua’s prostate before rocking back into it in steady pumps. Killua preened, a choked moan at the back of his throat. The initial ache from Gon stretching him open became nothing but a turn on now that he was dizzy with ecstasy.

The table creaked underneath them with every harsh, steady thrust. Gon manhandled Killua by the hips, the edge of the table lifting from Killua’s lower back when Gon held him up like he had on the carpet of his bedroom floor. 

When Gon asked if it felt good, Killua was beside himself. Were his moans not enough? Should he be _screaming_ at the top of his lungs, “_Dear God, thank you for this fucking snack_”? To top it off, Killua thought he might faint from the speed of his heart in his chest. 

He was certain he never felt this turned on before in his _life_ and he couldn’t pin _why_.

_I guess I always was a hoe for public sex,_ he thought, grunting at a particularly well-aimed thrust that had him throwing his head back, his hand now pumping through the precum on his erection. 

Their skin audibly slapped together until Gon slammed in fully and ground his hips tightly into Killua’s. Killua’s hand stilled on his cock, a curse on his lips. Gon’s shadow fell over him and, panting, he laid a sloppy, wet kiss on Killua’s mouth. Gon wrapped his hand around Killua’s, his thumb grazing beneath the head of Killua’s sensitive dick as he rocked his hips up in quick, shallow thrusts. 

Killua was a goner.

He came whilst he was staring Gon dead in the eye.

And, a second later, Gon dipped his forehead down to Killua’s chest, moaning something that _had_ to be in Spanish—either that, or Killua was too far gone for his brain to translate English—and came. Killua _felt it_ pulse in the condom around Gon’s dick still balls deep in his ass. 

_Jesus fucking Christ_, Killua thought, putting his head back onto the table. He slapped a hand over his eyes. _I can’t believe I came looking him in the eye_. He did it before, but that was different. That was because he had a goddamn GoPro on his head.

This was different, and he felt it like the knot around every valve of his heart that squeezed tighter during his postcoital dysphoria. He wasn’t crying this time, though. He was just being a goddamn sap about it. 

“Holy shit,” Gon panted, and it ground Killua’s existential crisis to a screeching halt. Gon was a goddamn _porn star_. Porn stars only _acted_ like they just had the best damn sex of their goddamn life. 

But Gon wasn’t like other porn stars. Acting wasn’t his forte—unless pretending to be turned on by a glass dildo was considered “acting”. 

Gon looked up at Killua, his cum-riddled hand lying flat on Killua’s stomach. Killua’s heart skipped in his chest. “That—Was that good?” Gon asked, and when Killua nodded, Gon smiled, laughed, and said, “Okay good. I wasn’t sure if I just lost my mind there for a second, but that was… _amazing_.”

* * *

“Gon said sex with me was, and I quote, ‘Amazing’. What does that mean?” Killua said.

Kurapika raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know? That it was fire sex?”

“There’s gotta be more to it! He has sex all the damn time—he just did that collab with Retz since he now apparently specializes in anal,” Killua said. 

“Isn’t his ass still on bedrest?”

“It probably should be? I don’t fucking know?” Killua said. He slumped onto Kurapika’s couch and groaned. “I don’t know what to do. The situation’s gotten worse. I've gone from _like_-liking to full blown lovey-dovey honeymoon. Honestly, I think _that_ is what made the sex seem so fire last time.”

It was the crisis of the century. The economy would fall if Killua kept this up. He’d summon the antichrist if he kept fucking with Gon and his own feelings. The apocalypse would doom them all if he didn’t come up with a solution _as soon as humanly possible_. Was he allowed to go back on his word with Gon? 

_No_, he decided. He couldn’t go back on his word. Gon’s feeble understanding of relationships and dating attested to this. 

“What do you think you should do?” Kurapika asked.

Killua pushed up onto one elbow and sighed. “Honestly… I don’t think I can keep doing this. If he fucks me again it’ll be game over. I might actually have a mental breakdown or something.”

It didn’t change the fact that he _wanted_ to fuck Gon again. He wanted to _so badly_ that it physically ached in his core. He knew it was just the addict in him that was hooked on the snack that was Gon Freecss. He couldn’t emotionally support this exchange anymore, not without throwing in all of his cards. 

“I think I’ve gotta, like… move out? Crash somewhere else and just quit cold-turkey,” he said. 

“Or you could just… tell him how you feel?” Kurapika suggested. 

“And why the fuck would I do that?” Killua said, annoyed. “I can’t tell Freecss. End of story. I’ve just gotta ghost him.”

“Killua…” Kurapika sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, but Killua was already on his feet. 

Killua took the joint from Kurapika and took one last hit to calm his brain. If he wasn’t ever so slightly stoned right now, he was sure he’d be in tears. “I gotta go. Give me, like, three weeks to get over Freecss. Who knows? Maybe I’ll see you on Tinder.”

“Don’t go on Tinder… Dude, rebounds are never a good idea,” Kurapika said, but Killua was already at the door and putting his sneakers on. 

Killua pointed at Kurapika as he swung open the front door. “Match with me, alright? Or else we won’t be friends anymore.”

“Killua—! Don’t—Oh for Chrissake,” Kurapika said, throwing his arms down. Killua was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Public sex won that poll a while back lol and by a while I mean a HOT SECOND.
> 
> I'm still not really in the mood for writing Tease?? I don't know what happened?? I still want to finish this fic and now that I've hightailed it back to the plot I think writing it should be a bit smoother. I estimate, like, 4 more chapters and then maybe an epilogue.
> 
> I'M SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG!!!


	16. Hallmark Romcom Acid Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killua has a hard, throbbing decision to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just finished watching Fate/Stay Night this morning and the scene when Lancer does the stabby-stabby thing to save our gal Tohsaka? My friend asked me what I thought of it and I said "instant nut" so anyway you don't understand how close I came to titling this chapter Instant Nut.

** T**he last time Killua orgasmed in the shower, it was from a simple handjob and the sound of Gon Freecss’ vocal pornography on his phone, which would sit on the edge of the counter outside of the shower curtains. 

This time, however, it had everything to do with Gon brushing his teeth in the bathroom while Killua was midshower and, after spitting out the foam, teasingly saying, “Mind if I join you?” He was probably kidding, but Killua couldn’t say no. Not anymore. 

_Fuck_, he thought the second Gon even offered. He should have just locked the bathroom door, but it was just a testament to how little he was actually doing to stop cold-turkey.

“_Fuck_,” Gon moaned, head tipped back. 

Killua was bent over and gripping the towel bar with one hand, the other clutching at the hand Gon had on his waist, each thrust sloppy and wet against the stream of water at their backs. The sound of their skin slapping together echoed like Gon’s breathy, _erotic_ noises like shower sex was _infinitely better_ than whatever the fuck they did in the university studio classroom that fucked Killua over mentally and emotionally. 

Killua put his forehead to his arm, biting his lip against the choked groan at the back of his throat. His cum washed down the drain as Gon pulled out, one hand still held firmly to Killua’s hip. It took a second for Killua to even straighten up—he was out of breath, and if it weren’t for the water, he _swore_ he’d be a sweating, goddamn disaster. 

He heard the snap of the used condom being pulled off. Gon leant away, nudging the curtain aside to toss the condom away. When he came back, Killua put his shoulders back and stepped aside, half-glancing at Gon, who went back to rubbing circles on Killua’s hipbones like they hadn’t just spontaneously gotten off in the middle of Killua’s shower time.

Killua pushed his hair back as Gon leant in, turning Killua around as he said, “That was…”

“What?” Killua said. 

Gon shrugged with a smile. “It was good.”

“_‘Good_’?” Killua repeated, throat tight. He cleared his throat as Gon rolled his eyes. 

“You know what I mean. It was great! But I like seeing your face. Doggy-style stuff doesn’t really do it for me,” he confessed. He tipped his forehead against Killua’s, like they were living some Hallmark romcom acid dream. Killua spared only a second to the kiss before acting like he had more important matters to attend to. He leant away, pointed to the soap, and said, "Dude, I gotta clean up.”

“Oh, right, sorry,” Gon said.

Even as Killua barely managed to avoid scathing his tender heart, a fraction of him was turning back into a mushy, hopeless romantic. Seeing Gon’s face during sex felt too intimate now. 

Gon snapped his fingers. “Oh! That reminds me—I wanted to see if you’d want to top again? I tried it with Retz but silicone just isn’t the same, you know? And I know you like spontaneity so it doesn’t have to be _now_ or whatever, just whenever you feel like it.”

Killua lathered up soap between his hands and started massaging around his sore ass. He could still feel the general shape of Gon’s hands were his fingers gripped the taunt muscle around his obliques. He scrubbed around his inner thigh, eyes on the ground. “I dunno. I’ll… I’ll think about it,” he said, but inside, he was screaming, “_YES, DEAR GOD, LET ME FUCK YOU_.”

He shivered as he turned away and rubbed at the hickey Gon left on his shoulder. He wanted ten thousand of them all over his body. He wanted Zushi to look at him and request he be sent to the ER. 

_What the fuck’s wrong with me?_ he thought, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

Gon slipped the soap bottle out of Killua’s hand. “Here—let me help you with that—”

Killua snatched it back, as if possession of the soap bottle would deter his heart from latching on to whatever the fuck this was. “No, I got it. Really, Gon. I don’t need you to pamper me, or whatever.”

The words came out harshly, and Killua knew it just from the look on Gon’s face. 

The shower was short and awkward after that. They both cleaned up, dried off, and dressed without saying more than two words in succession. And then, it was time for bed, and Killua plotted his escape route.

He sat up on the bed as Gon worked on his computer, he tugged his knees up and pinched at his bottom lip, thinking about the conversation he had with Zushi the day after his talk with Kurapika. Zushi would let him stick around, and since Killua’s phone was back at the apartment, he double-checked to make sure that Zushi would even _be_ at his own place that same night Killua made the godawful mistake of getting fucked by Gon again. 

_It’ll just be for three weeks_, he thought. It was his average rebound period after a breakup. He already felt like crying just at the thought of getting out of that bed. 

_It’ll be like ripping a bandaid off—it’ll be fine_, he told himself when he pretended to flop onto his side to sleep. Shortly after, Gon got up, put his laptop away, and turned the lights off. Killua closed his eyes, his back to the other side of the bed where Gon pulled the blankets back and settled in. Killua stiffened when Gon nestled up to him, pulling Killua flush to his front.

Killua turned a little, clearing his throat. “You’re a goddamn furnace right now, you know.”

Gon hummed, shimmying a little. “Perfect for winter,” he said. “I store up all my heat like a bear.”

“Christ,” Killua huffed, turning back around. He nudged Gon’s arm off of his waist and pulled his knees up, away from where Gon had perfectly slotted their legs together. 

“You don’t like it?” Gon said, laughing. He pushed himself onto one elbow, head propped on his closed fist. The blinds were partially open, so Killua could see Gon’s face when he turned, illuminated by the street lights reflected off of the windows outside. 

“It’s fine. Or whatever, I don’t know,” Killua said. His heart and brain were at a standstill, and one of them was screaming, “_HUG ME LIKE THOSE JEANS HUG YOUR ASS, COWARD_.”

Gon nestled in, his hair tickling Killua’s neck and shoulder. Killua closed his eyes and willed his heart to _stop beating like that_. It was _unseemly_. His throat closed up, eyes burning, and overall, he was on borderline-disaster-mode the entire time he spent waiting for Gon to fall asleep. Even if he had the nerve (and lack of sanity) to inquire about dating now, Killua was certain he’d burst into tears before he got a single word out on the topic. The fear of Gon’s romantic and emotional immaturity was too great a feat to tackle in the state he was in now.

He wasn’t sure what he’d do if Gon looked at him differently for confessing. _Killua_ was the weak one. _He_ caved first. 

Gon’s breathing steadied, softly. 

Killua glanced over his shoulder as discretely as he could. Gon was fast asleep at his back. _Perfect_, he thought, and gingerly lifted the corner of the comforter nearest the edge. Killua pushed his raised knees forward, off of the bed, and touched his feet to the floor. He looked behind him, and Gon was still where he was before. Unmoving and too peaceful and wholesome for Killua to look at for more than two seconds. 

He turned away, rubbing a hand over his hair. _Okay, here we go_, he said to himself and put the blanket back into position. He slipped through the bedframe curtains and padded across the room, around the end of the bed, and gathered the things he had scattered about the flat in the days he spent there.

He left his backpack open in fear of the zipper making too much of a racket. He paused in the middle of the room and looked around for any stray items. Just as he was about to leave, he remembered something—the toothbrush he always forgot by the sink. He nabbed it and was off, slipping his shoes on at the door, and gently, silently, opening the front door. 

In the elevator, Killua let out a relieved breath, but it shook in his chest. He sucked it back in, eyes tinged red. He rubbed his hands over his eyes. God, he hated being such a sap. He hated being so soft when it came to intimacy—it unnerved him and terrified him and made him wish he never got involved in something that made him feel so vulnerable.

The elevator door dinged and slid open. As he stepped out into the lobby at approximately midnight, he paused at the sight of someone _familiar_ arguing with the front desk lady.

“I _will_ call security again, sir—”

“I’m not even loitering _or_ attempting to leave the lobby—”

“Sir, we do not allow homeless people to sleep in our lobby.”

“I’m not _homeless_, I—Killua!” 

Killua startled at the sound of his brother calling his name. _So it _is_ Illumi_, Killua thought, eyes wide as Illumi hurried down the length of the front desk. The secretary scurried to her feet and chased Illumi down the length of the desk, saying, “Sir, please don’t—I’m so sorry, Mr. Zoldyck, I’ll call the police right away—”

“I-It’s fine, really,” Killua said just before Illumi slammed into him, dragging him into a tight hug. Killua didn’t realize that a hug was all he needed until that moment, and he melted into it, clutching his arms around Illumi’s back. “What’re you doing here?” Killua rasped, voice muffled against Illumi’s jacket.

“He’s been staking out the lobby once a day,” the secretary said.

“No one likes a snitch, Karen,” Illumi snapped, seething. He rubbed at Killua’s hair and pulled back, head tipped to the side. “We’re going back to the apartment and you aren’t leaving my sight. Alright?”

“Not arguing there,” Killua sighed. He leant into Illumi’s side as they started towards the exit. Killua caught a glimpse of Illumi flipping the secretary off just before they stepped through the sliding doors. 

It was frigid outside and after walking two blocks in the direction of Killua’s apartment, he sighed and said, “Sorry for running off like that.”

“Apology not accepted, but you’re here now and that’s all that matters,” Illumi said. 

“How long were you in the lobby?”

“Not long this time,” he said, ominously, and Killua narrowed his eyes. “What were you doing leaving in the dead of the night?”

Killua rubbed a hand against his aching eyes and said, “Nothing. Just… heading home.”

Illumi reached into his pocket as they slowed at an intersection. Killua looked down and watched as he produced Killua’s phone. Killua pocketed it without a second thought. 

* * *

The night after Killua and Kurapika’s talk, Gon's phone rang. Gon didn't think much of it at the time, since Kurapika _did_ sometimes call him whilst under the influence, but it _did_ seem a bit bizarre to hear Kurapika ask, “_Is Killua still with you?_”

“Uh, yeah, why?” Gon said, eyebrow raised. He leant out of his bedroom door to see that Killua _was_, in fact, still there. Killua had been sitting at the kitchen counter working on homework. 

“_Just checking_.” And then Kurapika hung up.

And then, several days later, Killua was gone.

Gon got out of bed that morning and walked through the apartment. The bathroom was empty, the living room was empty, the kitchen was empty. Gon turned back around, brow furrowed, scratching at his hair. _Where did Killua go?_ he thought, and went to look for a note of some kind. 

There were no bread crumbs.

Gon called Kurapika.

“Is Killua with you?” he asked. 

“_Shit_,” Kurapika said, and Gon paused in the middle of pacing the living room. 

“What? What is it?” Gon said, turning around. He clasped his hand over his throat as he listened to Kurapika resituate himself and the phone.

“_Nothing. Nothing. He’s not with me. Why… do you ask?_”

“Because I woke up this morning and he was just _gone_. His backpack’s gone and—” Gon came to a screeching halt. And, then, he was racing to the bathroom. He skidded across the tiles and flung open the medicine cabinet. “Fuck—he took his toothbrush. Where could he have gone? Maybe his brother left?”

“_Let’s go to his place then_,” Kurapika suggested.

And, so, they went to Killua’s place.

With little success.

After buzzing Killua’s apartment for an entire five minutes, the door to the complex opened and Killua’s brother stood there, looking thoroughly annoyed. Gon took his finger off of the buzzer.

“Is Killua home?” Gon asked.

“No,” Illumi said. “He hasn’t come by in over a week now.”

Confusion hit Gon like a brick to the skull. All he could do was stare as Kurapika said, “Right, well, when the fuck are you going back to Cali then?”

“To be determined,” Illumi said, and with that, he slammed the glass door in their faces and left. 

Through the glass door, Gon watched Illumi climb the flights of stairs up to Killua’s apartment. As Gon and Kurapika lingered out front debating their next plan of attack, Illumi returned to the open apartment door where he could see Killua sitting at the kitchen table, his eyes on the windowpane overlooking Gon and Kurapika as they crossed the slushy road. 

Killua put his head in his hands and shook his head. “Thanks for turning them away,” he said, voice stuffy. He reached for the tissue box, which Illumi nudged closer. After blowing his nose, he moaned and dropped his head onto the table. “_God_, what did they want? What did you tell them?”

“That you haven’t been here in a week,” Illumi said. He slid into the seat across from Killua and reached a hand out to ruffle Killua’s hair. 

Killua looked up, hair askew, and looking oh-so pathetic with his red-tinged eyes. Every ‘_what if_’ felt like a death sentence, gradually shredding his heart to pieces. What if Gon _was_ ready for a relationship, and he just ruined every shot he had? What if Gon was completely okay with romance, and everything Killua wanted in a relationship?

But what if being in a relationship with Gon wasn’t all it was cracked up to be? What if this was for the better, and that Gon would have broken his heart anyway?

“Th-Thanks, Illumi,” he blubbered uselessly, groaning at how awful it sounded coming out of him in a sob. He grabbed another tissue, rolling his eyes as he went. “I can’t s-stop thinking about him. _God_, I’m always l-like this,” he said, hiccuping with the tissue closed in his fist. He held it over his mouth as Illumi watched him. He almost preferred being watched by Illumi when he cried—the guy had the emotional range of a hinge joint, and Killua hated pity. Thankfully, ‘pity’ fell outside of the hinge joint range.

“Who else were you like this with?”

“M-Meruem,” Killua said, grimacing. “Why do I always fall for the emotionally unavailable ones? And I _know_ Gon's capable of it—”

“He isn’t,” Illumi said. Killua looked at the table, tears blurring his vision. Illumi held him by the wrist, gently, and gave him a firm tug. “Freakss is literally _paid_ to have _sex_. Don’t give him any more of your time or money.”

“I-I’m still subscribed to him,” Killua said, withering. He wasn’t sure if he could survive the few seconds it would take to cancel his HUNter subscription. 

“I’ll take care of it. I’ve already taken him off of your Snapchat, unfollowed his Instagram, Twitter—you don’t have to see him again,” Illumi said.

“B-But class—”

“There’s two lecture times for Greek History,” Illumi said. Killua stared at him. “We’re going to the Monday-Wednesday-Friday classes this week instead.”

Killua swallowed hard but nothing seemed to go down. Nothing seemed to get through his thick skull, either, because he was already crying again like he was mourning the passing of Beyoncé. He was certain Illumi was done with his bullshit, but Illumi simply got him, went around the table, and hugged him from over the back of the kitchen chair. 

Illumi bought him Ben and Jerry’s at the bodega down the street where he and Gon had once gotten bagels the morning after a good fuck. When he came back, Killua was already cocooned on the futon where Gon had fucked him through two orgasms like a goddamn champ and a half. Killua’s head was partially obscured by the comforter as he looked up at Illumi, who peeled the plastic off of the carton and handed it to him. “They didn’t have the brownie one so I got you this instead—it's still chocolate.”

Killua blinked at it. “They didn’t have the brownie one?” he whispered, his voice cracking into a whine.

“For Chrissake, it’s still chocolate,” Illumi said, and even though Killua didn’t like it, he took the carton, popped it open, and jabbed the spoon into the solid ice cream. He took a massive chunk out of it and slapped it into his mouth. He preferred a brainfreeze to this mind-numbing torture he was putting himself through.

They sat together while Illumi worked on his computer and Killua ate Ben and Jerry’s and watched Youtube drama channels duke it out in an attempt to make his drama seem trivial. It didn’t work, and before long, it was the next day and he had to make himself presentable for class. Not much was different aside from the fact that he could somewhat control the spontaneous episodes of crying. They were dulled to a mere throbbing at the back of his throat whenever he thought about seeing Gon.

Illumi ordered them an Uber, which saved Killua a fraction of the anxiety. Who knew if they’d run into Gon on campus? It unnerved him to think that Gon would show up out of nowhere at any possible moment demanding to know where he had gone Sunday morning.

It helped that Illumi’s suggested schedule change made it harder for Gon to peg Killua’s class routine. Illumi stuck to the main atrium of the arts building while Killua waited impatiently for Zushi to show. The second Zushi made himself known, though, Killua was thrown an unexpected curveball.

“How did Gon get my number?” Zushi asked. A knife to the heart. “And also, where _were_ you yesterday?”

“Did… we have plans?” Killua asked, a hand over his throat. 

“No, but Gon’s acting like you were kidnapped or something.” Another knife to the heart.

“Don’t… say his name, please,” Killua said, waving a dismissive hand. Zushi rose an eyebrow. 

“Did you guys get into a fight or something—”

“No, nothing like that. I’m just… not interested in that shit anymore.” _Liar_. “It was a phase. I'm over it now.”

Zushi narrowed his eyes. “Right… Well, _he_ called me asking if you were staying at _my_ place.”

Killua crossed his arms, shoulders hunched up to his ears. “What did… you tell him?”

Zushi shrugged. “The truth. Are you feeling all right? Do you have a fever or something? Maybe mono? I mean, that’d scare me away from sex for sure—”

“No. Fuck no. I don’t… have mono,” Killua said, shaking his head. 

“Thank _God_, ‘cause we have those exams coming up and all that. That’d sure be a downer,” he said, and Killua cracked a small smile. 

They moved on from the chat about Gon until class commenced and they were forced to stick to the matter at hand: their final projects. All the while, though, Killua’s mind kept drifting off to Gon Freecss and his stupid, perfect HUNter channel. Every time he caught himself wandering down that path, he’d shake his head and drag his attention back to the present. Freakss was in the past. He needed _normal_ relationships. He didn’t need to pine over a sex worker. 

Right?

At the end of class, he and Zushi slipped out through the studio’s backroom, which crossed several doors down to the computer labs. The lights were off, all except for the half-curtained windows that gave off an eerie blue light. Killua trailed after Zushi’s shadow to the door where Zushi leant out of the door only to leap back with a yelp of surprise. 

“What? What is it?” Killua said, panicked. His thoughts instantly went to—

“I-It’s—Gon’s out there,” Zushi said. He shut his eyes and gave a quick shake of his head. “I mean—_he_ is out there. You know—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Killua said. He clenched his fists at his sides before stuffing them into his coat pockets. He let out a shudder and stamped down every shred of emotion roaring in his ribcage. “Okay… we _run_ to the painting room where the emergency stairs are.”

“Or we could just _talk to him‚_”

“_No_,” Killua said, voice cracking. Zushi startled, a hand over his chest. Killua shook his head, turning away. “I can’t talk to him.”

“Well, why the hell not?”

Killua bit his lip so hard it bled. As his lip throbbed painfully, he licked at it, and kept his burning eyes to the ground. “You… know that I liked him, right? I can’t talk to him because I… maybeactuallylovehim?”

“You _what?_”

“_Love him_,” Killua hissed, and Zushi let out an astounded gasp. Killua thrashed out with his foot and Zushi avoided getting kicked in the ballsack—just barely. “And I can't talk to him because he doesn’t love me back, alright?! So we’re _running_ to the emergency stairs!”

“How do you know he doesn’t like you back—?”

“I just know, alright? Trust me on this, Zushi. I can_not_ talk to him without spontaneously _crying_.”

“Oh, God, I've never seen you cry.”

“I know, which is why we need to _run_ to the _emergency stairs—_”

“Or we could talk to Gon?” Zushi said with a cheeky smile. Killua started to take his backpack off in preparation to whip it at Zushi’s face. Zushi yelped and cried, “Never mind! To the emergency stairs we go!"

And, so, they ran like their lives depended on it, straight out of the computer lab door, in the complete opposite direction of where Gon was watching their classmates emerge from the drawing studio. Killua and Zushi skidded around the block of classrooms, overheating in their winter jackets, and ran until their lungs borderline-collapsed at the stairwell entryway. Killua doubled-over in the stairwell, their heavy breaths echoing across the concrete walls.

Zushi slumped against the concrete wall and slapped his hands down on his thighs, saying, “Dude, you have _got_ to talk to him.”

“Fuck that!” Killua said. “I’m _fine_. Give me, like, three weeks _max_. I’ll be over him by then.”

“What’s all this bullshit about getting _over_? Huh?” Zushi said, and Killua straightened, hands on his hips. He was still panting when Zushi stepped up to him and jabbed him in the chest, saying, “I _get_ that being obsessed with a guy isn’t the way to go about life, but you—! This is _different!_ There’s nothing to be ashamed of!”

“_You_ haven’t been in a friends with benefits before!” Killua snapped back, and Zushi glowered at him, like the fact was a dig on his character. “Don’t fucking tell me you know what you're talking about when you haven’t even been in this situation before! It’s fucked! Like, Code Red type shit—abort! Abort! Retreat all forces or risk total, utter, emotional obliteration!”

“This isn’t an end of the world scenario, Killu—”

“Well, it is to me!” Killua snapped, seething. Zushi clamped his mouth shut. Killua groaned and put his hand through his hair, holding it back from his reddened face. With a huff, he said, “I didn't mean to raise my voice.”

“I know. Me neither,” Zushi sighed. “I still don't agree with you, though.”

Killua swallowed the lump in his throat and said, “I get that, but can you just… _please_ respect the fact that I don’t—I don't want you talking to him about this, alright? Like, if he asks you about me—”

“I won’t tell him, I promise,” Zushi said. 

He wanted to believe Zushi, but everything about his family’s tendencies to not obey his wishes. Killua stuck his hand out. “Shake on it,” he said, “and I’ll fucking murder you if you out me.”

“Damn. In that case, I’d probably deserve it,” he said, and they shook on it.


	17. Hit Lists And Other Sexual Endeavors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurapika's POV! Kurapika's life and other chaotic things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a big fan of Kurokura but if you aren't, DON'T READ! I understand that not everyone here will be about them in the long run. 
> 
> That said, there's also an implied collaboration video between Retz and Chrollo. Just a heads up, because we all know what collaboration videos are for HUNters.

_“I’ve got my sights on bigger things—and better. But mostly bigger.”_

_ “I’ve got a booty call to attend to.”_

_ “That’s good shit. Is that Kurapika’s?”_

_ “Yeah, a different supplier, though.”_

“God, you _almost_ got me to believe that you don’t give a single shit.”

“That’s because the only shit I give is getting paid.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“No, I’m pretty sure that’s the shit you were smelling. Unless—was it—? My Dior cologne?”

“You don’t wear cologne_ or_ Dior.”

“And in what world would you know that?”

“The one that has my lips written all over those hickies.”

Rewind. 

“I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again: You should stop working for my brother.”

Kurapika hesitated, both hands clasped to the grinder. He looked up past his hands to the sight of Retz reclined on a chaise lounge like she was ten seconds away from asking Kurapika to draw her like one of his French girls. Her blonde hair was spun back into a messy bun, and without all of the treatments, the attention, her hair was limp and borderline thinning. She didn’t like to put on a facade for Kurapika like she did for the camera over the two years she had been a camgirl.

He screwed off the top of the grinder. “Maybe so,” he said.

“Kurapika, you _know_ he’s cheating you,” she said, but Kurapika didn’t entirely care at that moment. He made enough for his apartment, his schooling, and was even able to afford his growing dependence on weed.

He didn’t care if Omokage was paying him an unfair cut of each sale. The quality wasn’t even that great, either.

He picked out a seed from the grounds and flicked it across the room. Retz brought her knees up, her feet touching the floor as she leant over to watch Kurapika fill the vaporizer. He set it to a low temperature and cleaned the spout before offering the first hit to Retz.

She took it. “I don’t understand you sometimes. I can’t tell if you’re motivated or not most days.”

“I’m not exactly looking to buy a house with this career choice,” Kurapika said. “I’m just living, you know?”

The vaporizer hissed as she took a deep breath of smoke in. She held it in her lungs for a moment before letting it fade out between her teeth. She shook her head and handed the vaporizer back. “You’re missing the point. There’s more to life than just _living_, hun.”

“What, like getting fucked on camera? No thanks, I’m good,” Kurapika said. 

“A girl’s got an appetite,” she said with an easy grin. She leant back on the lounge’s armrest, propping her head up on her closed fist. She shrugged. “And I like my job. Do you like _your_ job?”

Retz was a special case. Her overbearing brother had prompted her to leave her parents’ house at the early age of sixteen when she kicked off her cam career. Kurapika had known her from high school—Omokage had been dealing then as well and, unbeknownst to him, Kurapika was running weed to his little sister under the table. But when he graduated and got his own place, he put Retz up for a month or two while she got her footing. She started as a camgirl in high school and freelance gigs—selling photos to older, rich men with a fetish for her Lolita-esque appeal. 

And then, the second she could afford to switch her brand, she left the vanilla scene.

So yeah, Kurapika was aware of what her occupation was before he ever suggested Gon do the same. 

“Doesn’t matter if I like my job,” he said. “I kinda want to help my buddy out, though. He’s struggling financially. I think he’s gonna get evicted soon.”

“Damn, that’s rough. Well, he can always kick it at mine if he needs a place to stay,” she said.

“Not likely. I’ve already offered anyway,” he said. 

“I’m tellin’ ya—porn is where it’s at,” she said. She took the vaporizer back and took two hits before saying, “Speaking of—I’m having a guest over next weekend. Do you think you could stop by?”

He knew what that meant. Kurapika was, in a sense, one of Retz’ connections in New York. Drugs were commonplace in the porn industry, and when guests visited from out of town, they didn’t generally bring their own shit with them, especially if a plane was involved. Being able to introduce Kurapika to collaborators broadened his own network of people potentially moving to NYC who he _knew_ could afford Omokage’s outrageous prices.

“Sure, I’ll come packing,” Kurapika said.

And come packing he did. That following Friday, Kurapika went knocking on Retz’ door expect the cute blonde to be dolled up and preppier than usual. Instead, when the door opened, Kurapika’s eyes went from Retz’ eye level up—and up, all the way to the six-foot-something guy standing at the threshold of Retz’ apartment.

Kurapika stared for a moment. The guy’s expression was quiet, all except for his borderline effeminate eyes. Did guys _usually_ have such lushious eyelashes? Kurapika couldn’t tell, but fuck, he was so into it.

“You must be Retz’ dealer,” the guy said, and before Kurapika could say a word, he half-closed the door and said, “I’ve got us covered.”

Kurapika put his hand to the door, stilling it at the sound of Retz off in the distance, saying, “Aw, don’t be mean! Let my friend in!”

The guy glanced back at Retz, and it gave Kurapika the chance to push in and sneak over the threshold. The guy barely moved so they wound up chest-to-chest in Retz’ foyer. Kurapika shut the door.

Retz came up beside them both. Kurapika peeled his eyes away from the stranger, eyes narrowed, and looked to Retz. She was fully sporting a cute, circle skirt with a pink, frilly crop top. Her stockings went up past her knees and were clasped with decorative straps. 

“Kurapika, meet Chrollo. Chrollo, this is my good friend Kurapika,” Retz said. 

Considering how they started off, Kurapika certainly didn't expect that hot shot to offer a hand, and yet there they were. Kurapika stared at Chrollo’s outstretched hand for a moment before sighing and accepting it. 

“So… what is it that brings you here,” Kurapika droned in a way that suggested he really didn't give two shits. He already knew the answer, anyway, just judging from Retz’ outfit and the fact that she was _sitting on his lap_. Retz didn't take many freelance gigs these days—she didn't need to—but he didn’t blame the girl. The money was hard to argue with.

His answer struck Kurapika out of left field. “A collaboration. I’m also apartment hunting—moving to Brooklyn in the next month or so.”

A collaboration meant that Chrollo wasn't a client, which meant that he was a fellow _HUNter_. Kurapika’s eyes slid down Chrollo’s lax position, knees spread, arms propped on the back of the couch. Chrollo’s wide, bright eyes were unnervingly still on Kurapika’s face by the time Kurapika’s eyes stopped wandering. 

Retz pulled her lips from the bong and tipped her head back. She breathed smoke towards the ceiling and Chrollo lifted his eyes up along the pale column of her throat. His actions struck Kurapika as _drunken_—not clumsy, necessarily. Far from clumsy, actually. They were simply relaxed, smooth, slow. There were some people Kurapika knew who exuded similar vibes—like they were more likely to whisper than to talk. 

That was Chrollo.

“How does it taste,” Chrollo asked Retz, softly, like Kurapika wasn’t even there.

“_Really_ good,” she said, looking back down with a smile. “Is this from Arizona?”

“No—I’ve got a supplier in Queens. It’s similar to what I sell in Phoenix,” he said. He reached into his pocket and produced a medicine bottle. He tossed it to Kurapika without notice. 

Kurapika caught it and looked down at it. He unscrewed the cap and inside rested a plastic baggie and a stick of lavender incense. As Kurapika inspected the contents of the baggie—it was freshly clipped—Chrollo went on. “My supplier in Queens does this more as a hobby. The reason I’m even considering moving to New York is because she wants to turn it into a business. Managed to convince her that her product is worth more than most of the shit on the market.”

“Kurapika will be the ultimate quality check,” Retz said, smiling cheekily at Kurapika. She leant back, her elbows pushed to the arm rest and her legs still hooked over Chrollo’s. She licked her lips like she had a devious plan up her sleeve, and Kurapika could read it from a mile away.

Chrollo took the bong from Retz’s lap and passed it to Kurapika, switching it for the medicine bottle. Kurapika took the bong by the neck of it.

As Kurapika took a hit, he considered Chrollo’s interesting situation. Dealers, from what Kurapika understood, weren’t generally sex-workers. Sex workers were more likely to be distributors of the product, and it all had a little something to do with _power play_. Omokage was an anxiety-riddled, paranoid idiot with a god complex. Being underneath someone was the last thing on Omokage’s list of things to do. 

Kurapika met Chrollo’s eyes as he lifted his lips from the bong.

_I’ll have to look this guy up and see what sort of power play he has on HUNter_, Kurapika thought. He glanced at Retz, who reached a hand over to thread her fingers through Chrollo’s hair. She didn’t generally work with domineering tops, and Chrollo seemed more or less unfazed by just about anything.

* * *

_That was a really good hit_, Kurapika thought an entire week later. 

He sat there zoning out just _thinking about it_. Chrollo said his supplier was in Queens, right? Kurapika wondered if he knew the person behind this supreme batch. When he wasn’t thinking about classes or the fact that Gon was living practically on a minimum wage salary, he was thinking about Chrollo’s goddamn sash. The guy was apartment hunting until that same weekend. He only had three days left to pick that guy’s brain.

“_You really should consider running for Chrollo_,” Retz was saying as Kurapika hopped into the back seat of an Uber to Queens. “_He'd pay you better, and he doesn’t skimp even if he’s low on cash. You’d be able to trust him_.”

“I’ll think about it,” Kurapika said, leaning back on the leather seat. It was dark and dreary on the Manhattan streets that night, and every intersection looked like it was paved with ice simply from the reflection of lights on the water. 

He trailed a finger through the moisture on the window. 

“_I don’t get why you’re depending on Omo. You know he doesn’t give a shit about you. Is it the security?_”

“Working for him is hardly secure.”

“_Then what is it?_”

“I don’t know,” Kurapika lied. He sighed and rubbed a hand against the back of his neck. The image of Chrollo’s HUNter profile came to mind. He lowered his phone from his ear as Retz went on talking about what Chrollo could offer him. He flipped open his HUNter app where the guy’s profile was still open.

“_Kurapika_,” Retz said.

“I’m listening,” Kurapika said, scrolling through the raw, unedited thumbnails of Chrollo’s videos. 

The guy had a strong online presence, that was certain, more so than Retz at the time. She was probably using him to tap into his audience, and Kurapika knew that it was more than just that now, several years later. Chrollo’s dominating atmosphere was what Retz wanted to exude in her videos. He had an audience who wanted that, and Retz would bring a cutesy appeal to it that not many doms had. She could go toe-to-toe with Chrollo any day, and collaboration seemed to be the next best step to that. 

Even if the guy’s account specialized in topping guys. 

In hindsight, Kurapika knew that Chrollo promised to sub for her. 

Kurapika bit his lip and switched back to his call with Retz. “Listen, I gotta go. I’ll keep what you said in mind.”

“_I can hear you already forgetting what I said,_” she deadpanned. 

“Right, love you too,” Kurapika said and hung up.

In Queens, the driver pulled up outside of a cafe where, through the glossy street window, Kurapika could see a familiar face at the bar top stretched along the windowpane. Kurapika kept his eyes on that devil of a man, who had yet to look up from the book in his hands. 

Kurapika strolled up to the door. The bell chimed overhead as he strode across the tiles to the seat just to the right of Chrollo Lucilfer. Chrollo stuck a bookmark between the pages. 

“You’re early,” Kurapika said. 

“I’m always early for meeting with potential business partners,” he said, folding his hands over the cover of the book. He glanced over at Kurapika, who straddled the stool, completely facing Chrollo. 

Kurapika propped an elbow on the edge of the countertop and looked away, scratching at his braid. “Like I said last time—I’m not interested. I’ve got a gig.”

“Yeah, with a shitty dealer, shitty supplier, and an even shittier pay,” Chrollo said. Before Kurapika could bitch about the fact that Chrollo even _had _these details, he added, “Retz caught me up.”

“Of fucking course she did,” Kurapika sighed.

“If this isn’t a partnership meeting, what is it? I’m under the impression that I read the signs wrong.”

“I won’t run for you—my network's off limits,” Kurapika said. Chrollo rose an eyebrow. “_But…_ I need more.”

Chrollo leant back in his seat, a hand on his hip. Kurapika had never seen such a sinister smile on anyone other than himself when he teased Gon. Kurapika narrowed his eyes at it. “You like it _that much_ but won’t work for me? Retz did say you were a stubborn bastard.”

“Ha. Ha ha ha,” Kurapika said robotically, and it only egged Chrollo on. Before Chrollo could open his stupid mouth again, Kurapika said, “You got something for me or don't you?”

“Bold of you to assume I carry shit on me twenty-four-seven,” he said, but he reached into his coat pocket anyway.

“Bold of you to assume I came here asking for a fucking job,” Kurapika said, extracting a wad of cash from his jean pocket. He sifted through it discretely under the table until the exact moment Chrollo put a hand on his upper thigh.

Kurapika paused. The sensitive skin on his inner thigh all but _trembled_ at the touch of Chrollo’s fingers massaging his muscles. 

Kurapika held his breath when Chrollo leant closer, an arm around his shoulders as he whispered the price in Kurapika’s ear. With his arm completely around Kurapika’s shoulders, he watched Kurapika sift through his money before Chrollo sunk the wax-paper packet of weed into the chest pocket of Kurapika’s jacket. 

Chrollo gave it a firm pat as he rolled up the money in his hand, which lifted from Kurapika’s thigh. “If you ever find yourself unemployed,” Chrollo said, swiping his book off of the counter. He stood up. Kurapika’s eyes lifted to meet Chrollo’s, still stunned by that pass. Chrollo handed him a five dollar bill and winked. The rest went unsaid. “Get yourself a coffee. This place doesn’t tolerate loitering unless you’re a customer.”

He pointed to the sign on the wall that said as much as he left. 

Kurapika almost ripped the five dollar bill in half.

* * *

“I’ve never been so angry and turned on before,” Kurapika said, arms crossed and brooding on a street corner next to Gon.

“With me?” Gon asked, cheeky smile and all. Kurapika narrowed his eyes. “Kidding. You’re never angry with me—just turned on.”

“Gon…”

“Except for this instance,” Gon said, smile weakening. “Is this about that guy you’ve been seeing?”

Kurapika sighed. Clearly, he hadn’t been seeing Chrollo, but the dealer was all Kurapika could think about with every hit he took. He couldn’t go to class sober for the life of him, so now, class was a constant reminder of when a porn star grabbed him by the upper thigh and snuck weed into his chest pocket. Kurapika was more inclined than ever to deplete his stash just to get in contact with Chrollo again.

But they guy wouldn’t be back in New York until the end of the semester. Retz didn’t often talk about clients, coworkers, or otherwise, but she was still thoroughly adamant on Kurapika switching loyalties. 

It was because HUNter was on the forefront of his mind that, when confronted with Gon’s financial instability, porn came to mind as a solution. 

“Dude, just become a porn star,” he said, half-joking. He didn’t expect Gon to look at him an seriously consider it, but when he latched onto the idea, Kurapika couldn’t let it go. 

“A _what?_” Gon choked out, eyes wide.

Kurapika shrugged, breathing the last of Chrollo’s stash into his lungs. “You know. Make money from _getting off_, or whatever.”

Gon _was_ handsome enough for it, and Kurapika stood by that statement. Gon would make for a compelling porn star, just as much as Chrollo did. But unlike Chrollo, Gon had an air of innocence around him that was exploitable and profitable. 

Kurapika just didn’t expect growth to happen instantaneously, and unlinked to either of the two porn stars he knew personally. Retz was bemused initially with the fact that Kurapika had even suggested Gon take a career check. 

“I won’t collab with him until he has over fifteen thousand followers,” Retz told him.

“I’m not asking you to collab with Gon, and also, that’s kind of bitchy.”

Retz shrugged, her silky kimono slipping from her shoulder. “It’s called business, baby. Believe it or not, but I don’t throw my vagina around and about if I’m not getting a decent business opportunity out of it. I don’t even want our platforms to overlap until that point. If I’m collabing with him, it’s because he has a unique viewership that I need to tap into. It’s as simple as that.”

“And what could you _possibly_ have gained from Chrollo’s ‘viewership’,” Kurapika said. He made sure never to outright mention the guy—it was the first time in a month since he had spoken the guy’s name out loud when he wasn’t getting off in the shower to the thought of that goddamn devil of a man.

Retz’ grin said it all: He broke whatever illusion he thought he built around Not Being Interested. 

“Are you…”

“No, I’m not.”

“—_jealous_, perhaps?”

Kurapika’s jaw clenched and Retz poked it. He slapped her hand away, but he could still feel the acidity in his chest that said that he was forever annoyed that Retz slept with Chrollo before _he_ did. What was there to gain, anyway, from sleeping with a guy like Chrollo? It wasn’t even that he was angry with Retz. More so, he was downright _furious_ with a guy he barely knew for sleeping with her. Retz wasn’t to blame, in Kurapika’s mind.

Chrollo was.

“I am _not_ jealous. I hope I never see that arsehole again,” Kurapika seethed, fists clenched at his sides. He shoved them into the pocket on the front of his sweatshirt and huffed. “I hope his flight to New York gets cancelled—or better yet, _crashes_.”

“Aw, you like him,” Retz teased, and once again, Kurapika slapped away one of her prodding fingers. She poked at his stomach, and he kicked her in the shin. She yelped and crumpled, her kimono all but nonexistent now around her elbows. 

Kurapika couldn’t stand to sit there for another second knowing that Retz got dicked by Chrollo and _he_ didn’t. Or, rather, Retz dicked Chrollo—he had watched their collaboration videos more than once, and in each one, Chrollo was broken down into the submissive role not many had witnessed him in. Kurapika quite liked the idea of that. 

* * *

“I’m sure you’ll find this incredibly amusing.”

“I’m sure I won’t, but I digress.”

“Someone told me you’ve been distributing to _my_ little sister. Funny, right.”

_Fuck_. Kurapika scoffed a little. He looked away with a roll of his eyes, hands in his pockets. Omokage glared at him, which wasn’t uncommon. The guy had a bad habit of succumbing to paranoia. Not long ago, Omokage had holed himself up in his apartment and wouldn’t let anyone in or out for over seventy-two hours. All because someone came back short. 

Kurapika licked his bottom lip and said, “Listen, I barely talk to Retz these days.”

Omokage straightened from where he had been lounging back on the couch. His long hair was spun back into a bun that, at some point—days ago—had been neat and tight. Now, however, it was loose, frayed, and frizzy. He looked Kurapika dead in the eye and asked, “Are you lying to me?”

“I don’t lie.”

“You lie all the damn time, you piece of shit.”

Kurapika slapped his hands down and said, “You’ve known that about me for years. And I pay up, don’t I?”

“Which is why I’m not interested in whether or not you’ve been squaring up. Have you or haven't you been distributing to her?” Omokage demanded, stressing each word with each finger tap to his knee. 

“_No_, I haven’t,” Kurapika said, because if he thought about how, the last time, _Chrollo_ had supplied, he could believe that he wasn’t responsible for Retz’ current stash.

“When was the last time you saw her?” he asked, and when Kurapika said nothing, he stood up. “How long ago?”

“I don’t know. Like a month ago?” he said, insides squirming with discomfort. He loathed when Omokage got like this—fidgety and desperate to know every damn thing he could about Retz’ life. She cut him out of the picture when she moved out to her own place and, in doing so, left one lonely bridge. Kurapika. “I told you—she doesn’t like when I talk about her life with you.”

“If she’s not using my shit, who’s supplying?” Omokage asked, each word flying out of his mouth faster than the last. “Do I know them? Could you call her and ask—”

“I’m not fucking calling her, dude,” Kurapika said, bristling. Omokage was grasping onto his jacket sleeves, and he shrugged the guy off quickly. “She’s not—She doesn't even smoke—”

“You’re lying. What else did you lie about? Tell me where she is or at least could you convince her to see me? Just once.”

“What the fuck are you on?” Kurapika said, feeling the jittery sensation solidifying in the back of his throat. He tried to swallow it down as he stared at Omokage’s dilated pupils. Despite how much he wanted to know about Retz, the guy never asked to _actually see her_. There were some lines he couldn’t cross anymore. “You’re fucked up—what did you take?”

“Nothing—_nothing!_ Stop asking me! I didn't take _shit_,” he snapped, shoving Kurapika hard in the chest. “You never fucking tell the truth. I _know_ it was you—what buyer was it? Which one did you fucking _make up_ so I wouldn't know it was her—”

Kurapika ducked back when Omokage reached for his face. He narrowly avoided being clawed across the cheek as Omokage lurched towards him. Kurapika cursed, scrambling for the door. He should have left the second Omokage even brought up Retz. He shouldn’t have stuck around that long. Why the hell did he give a shit anyway? He didn’t give a shit. Blind loyalty pissed him off to know end and it seemed to have everything to do with the fact that he couldn’t let go of his high school friendships, no matter how fucked they were. 

The second he clasped onto the front doorknob, Omokage slammed into him. The doorknob shoved into Kurapika’s gut where his peanut-sized bladder was already just barely holding out. Fuck, he needed to piss. This was so inconvenient. 

“Tell me—!”

“You’re such a—fucking—god _dammit_!” Kurapika swore, staggering back. He twisted and slammed Omokage back into the wall, rattling the dishes in the kitchen just a few paces away from them. Omokage’s grip loosened around his chest where his heart was pounding painfully against his ribcage. He rammed his elbow into Omokage’s gut and, for good measure, reached for the laundry door handle. 

The second he got free, Omokage was after him again. Kurapika yanked the door open and straight into Omokage’s face. It sounded like a mini nuclear bomb going off a second before Omokage stumbled, staggered, and hit the ground. 

Kurapika jumped when Omokage collapsed. He put a hand to his mouth and thought to himself, _Well that didn't go as planned_. Omokage groaned on the floor but didn’t get up aside from rolling onto his side.

Kurapika was a quick-thinker, though, so it came as no surprise to him when his instincts kicked in and he went immediately for the keys in Omokage’s pocket. With the keys, he unlocked Omokage’s immediately stash there in the apartment and, from there, he took what he could carry in his jacket before locking the safe, dropping the keys off on the counter, and leaving. At the door, he glanced back once to put his middle finger up to Omokage and then, he was gone.

The second he was out of the door and in the subway, Kurapika pulled out his phone and paused at the sight of Killua’s name in his notifications. The entire week had involved Kurapika strategically avoiding Omokage for this exact purpose. He could tell from a mile away what that bean-pole of an idiot was on and he wasn’t about to get involved until he couldn’t help it. He needed Omokage’s bullshit to make a living, and look where it got him? The only reason Omokage put up with Kurapika’s bullshit was because he knew as well as Kurapika did that the bridge to Retz’ was guarded by a troll, and that troll was Kurapika.

“For Chrissake,” Kurapika thought just before switching gears and navigating to Killua’s place. On the way there, he called up Retz and left a voicemail saying in an obnoxious valley-girl accent, “Hey cutie! Just wanted you to know that I gave your brother a concussion. Uh, yeah, I know, how crazy is that? Love that for us. Anyway, love you babe, I’ve got the tea so call me, bye!” and hung up. 

Thus was how Kurapika wound up sneaking into Killua’s apartment building behind a tenant who unknowingly gave way for an intruder to sneak up to the second floor of the building. Kurapika knocked on the door, a hand in his pocket over the bundle of bullshit he had stollen from Omokage’s stash. He glanced behind him where Killua’s neighbor was unlocking their apartment door across the hall. The neighbor looked suspiciously at him from over her shoulder, and Kurapika tugged his jacket closer. Carrying so much shit made him feel targeted by every stray eye in his direction.

The girl disappeared behind her door and locked it. Kurapika scoffed a little just before he heard Killua unlocking his door. 

The instant he could, he barged in, saying, “I’ve got twenty minutes. Tell me what you need and I’ve probably got it, just don’t shoot me for it. I’ve got a fucking blackbelt, dude, so don’t even try me.”

Killua floundered like a goddamn fish out of water. “Hello, yes, welcome to my home. How did you…?”

Kurapika rolled his eyes. _Amateurs_, he thought. “Some places have cameras timed to buzzers so I was as swift as the wind, as the kids say,” Kurapika said. He put his hands to his hips, eyebrows raised, and said, “So what’ll it be?”

Killua shut the door, brow furrowed. “I’m not—I’m not here to _buy_ shit off of you. I just need to ask you something. Personal.”

_Gon’s a porn star_.

* * *

Kurapika couldn’t sleep with Omokage’s shit in his apartment. The THC didn’t help the matter, and before long, he was paranoid as hell all through the day. It felt like he had left his expensive-ass laptop in the library across campus and the lecture hall doors were locked. He hated it. He hated having so much dope on hand. 

“Are you feeling okay?” Gon asked.

Kurapika dragged a hand over his eyes and groaned, “I’m fine. I just haven't been sleeping.”

“What do you mean, ‘haven’t been sleeping’?”

“I haven't slept since we talked about deepthroating,” Kurapika said, and it was true. He didn't waste a second after talking to Killua, and it made for a good excuse. Gon didn't need to know what was in his apartment. _No one_ did.

“Oh, God, is it really that terrible that I can deepthroat? Dude, take a melatonin or something,” Gon said, eyes wide and concerned.

“Every time I close my eyes I see it,” Kurapika lied, dreadfully, and Gon slumped against him, whining about how he hadn’t meant for Kurapika to find out this way, that it was all a misunderstanding, that Gon would make it up to him and that Kurapika would sleep like a baby before long.

Kurapika rolled his eyes and gave Gon a firm, hardly-affectionate pat on the back to calm him down. 

Kurapika’s phone buzzed in his pocket for the fiftieth time that day. Not only was Omokage the main contributor to Kurapika’s depleted battery life, but as were customers he ghosted this week and the last. The last of his weed supply was in the inside breast pocket of his jacket, and as he and Gon approached the house party Gon had gotten them into, Kurapika made the mistake of checking his phone.

_Inquiring minds are wondering if you’ll be cashing in on my offer. Could use you_.

“Fuck,” Kurapika swore under his breath. He sighed, lowering his phone to his lap. Gon was distracted by the girl at the door stamping guests’ hands. They were chatting when Kurapika tuend back in, put his hand out, and said, “Stamp me, bitch, I’ve got the stuff Gon here promised.”

Her preppy energy dulled into a terse frown. She stamped his hand and said, voice dull, “Kitchen’s to the left—the guy in there will pay you for it.” 

Kurapika nudged past and left through the archway to the left of the entry table. Gon followed suit shortly after apologizing on Kurapika’s behalf. “You’ve gotta be more polite, you know,” Gon said. 

“I don’t have to be shit,” Kurapika said over his shoulder. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the pack of weed. As stated by the front table girl, there was indeed a guy in the kitchen. Kurapika tossed the pack onto the counter in front of the guy and gave him the price. The guy reached for the pack, but Kurapika slapped his hand away and said, “Nah-ah-ah, money first. I’ve got a black belt dude, don't even mess with me.”

When they were done in the kitchen, Gon followed after Kurapika and asked, “I’ve always wondered—do you _actually_ have a black belt?”

“You wanna find out?” Kurapika said. Gon shrugged. 

_Call me_.

The message was left unread in Kurapika’s swamped notificiations as he sat on the fringes of the house party watching guests seep in. He lost focus years ago on what parties were actually supposed to do for him. He really couldn't stand how fake they were. No one actually cared about this music. No one _actually_ cared what everyone else looked like.No one gave a shit about anything aside from hoping other people _actually_ cared about them.

Kurapika grimaced pityingly as he watched Gon chat up a girl across the basement underneath the glow of a streetlamp outside, streaming in through the open window. 

His phone started a rhythmic buzz in his coat pocket. The band had yet to start, but the amps were loud as fuck, so he got up and left the room to answer it. He looped through the laundry room and up the steps to the back of the house. Once on the stairs, he answered the call and said nothing. 

“_It's come to my attention that you might be in the market for a better deal_.”

Kurapika sneered a little and said nothing. _Retz, that fucker_, he thought, wondering what the odds were that she had heard his voicemail and gone straight to Chrollo Lucilfer with it. 

“_Considering you haven't hung up, I’ll take that as a ‘yes’_.”

Kurapika scoffed. It’d been a while since he renewed his HUNter subscription. It'd been a while since he even thought of Retz’ ‘coworker’, so to speak. It made him unbearably queazy to think that Chrollo had slept with such a good friend of his. Retz was, in a sense, like his little sister. But her sexual appetite never bothered him.

Until Chrollo.

“_I’m hosting a small get-together tonight. If you're interested to see who you'll be working with, come_.”

“I never said yes,” Kurapika said through clenched teeth. 

“_I’ll send the address. Feel free to drop by. If not, I’ll assume the offer no longer stands_.”

Kurapika scoffed. He put a hand in his pocket, shoulders tense beneath his ears in an attempt to ward off the cold. “And if I have something else going on tonight?” he said, eyebrow raised.

“_Like that party you’d rather not be at?_”

Kurapika hadn’t realized his heart was pounding in his chest until it stopped. The tension in his expression dropped, just like the call when Chrollo hung up on him. His heart kicked into gear once more, slowly, throbbing up into his throat where he really couldn’t breathe. 

How could Chrollo know any of that?

Kurapika turned around. He glanced back at the door at the top of the stairs, which was propped open to let the cold air into the stuffy basement. There was a group of girls lingering at the base of the stairs, chatting and unaware of Kurapika standing out there. He looked to the street. No one.

A shiver crawled up his spine as he pocketed his phone, fists clenched, and stalked back to the party. He really needed a hit, but didn’t save much for himself. He rifled through his pockets as he wandered up to the second floor of the building in search of a quiet place to smoke that _wasn’t_ in full view of _everyone_. Clearly, it seemed, Chrollo had eyes and ears where he was and that made him just as paranoid as Omokage had that entire week.

In the midst of dismissing his anxieties on the balcony, someone said, “Hey! It’s Freakss’ manager!”

Kurapika looked, eyes wide. He barely recognized the voice, but the face that accompanied Zushi was far more familiar. He plucked the joint from between his lips and said, “Well, how ‘bout it.”

Killua eyed him warily, those steely blue eyes glancing back the way he and Zushi came. It was easy to see through the balcony windows, so no one could really ignore the fact that there was a couple two feet away from the door making out. Kurapika squinted at the girl’s back up against the window, her shirt riding up against the glass. 

When Killua asked what he was doing here, he said, “I was bored,” but really, he was too paranoid to go home. He didn’t want to be around Omokage’s shit. He needed it gone, but he couldn’t sell the hard stuff with a snap of his fingers at a party like this without risking just about everything. If he was going to sell that shit, it would be with people he trusted—the client list Omokage knew everything about. 

He didn’t need to be treated like reluctant property again, and that included dealing with snitches. He knew it was just a dealer’s way of staking claim to Kurapika’s honesty, but if there was one thing Kurapika sought to maintain, it was the option to lie when needed.

And, so, after the party, after ramen, and after dropping Gon and Killua off, Kurapika gave the address in his messages over to the Uber driver and said, “Take me here.”

The building the Uber parked in front of was made of fresh, red brick and decorative embellishments from the stone ledges flanking the stoop to the iron gate along the sidewalk. Kurapika stepped out, studied it for a moment, and shut the car door. From the sidewalk, he could see cool, purple lighting through the living room curtains blending into blue. By the time he approached the stoop, the colors were melting into blood red and the music pulsed in his chest.

Kurapika paused for a moment, studying the shapes of shadows against the curtains. Did he _really_, seriously want to do this? 

He pictured Chrollo all sexed up and shirtless on his computer screen. His nails dug into his palms just to keep himself from rubbing at his already-flushed throat. His braid was starting to slip from his shoulder, and it fell the instant his head turned at the sound of the front door opening.

Through the screen door, Kurapika found himself staring at Chrollo Lucilfer in nothing but a robe, backlit by deep purple black lights that glinted against his piercings. Kurapika swallowed hard, shaking. He blamed the winter.

“What, were you waiting for me to show up like a goddamn dog in a windowsill?” Kurapika hissed, jaw tight.

Chrollo leant on his hand, which was still hooked on the door handle. “Yes, actually, wondering ‘When will my husband return from war’?” he teased, completely straight-faced. 

“Meme all you like—I’m still not pleased with you,” Kurapika said.

“Please, do give me a piece of your mind. I’d like to pick your brain as well,” he said, and gestured for Kurapika to enter. When Kurapika didn’t move, Chrollo dropped his hand and tugged at his robe, saying, “Or… I could stand out there, barefoot, in freezing temperatures?”

Kurapika could have breathed fire. Instead, he stomped over the threshold and shrugged his coat off in several angry motions like he was two seconds away from throwing it on the ground and stomping on it. Chrollo shut the door. 

The instant he did, Kurapika turned to him with a finger to his chest. Chrollo blinked, but stood unfazed by the scowl on Kurapika’s face when he seethed, “I don’t fucking work for stalkers.”

Chrollo’s stoic expression cracked. He grinned down at Kurapika, sharp canines and all. Kurapika eye twitched as Chrollo stepped around him and backed into the hallway ahead of the foyer, a hand out to urge Kurapika to follow suit. “We can talk about this—upstairs.”

“No, right here, bitch,” Kurapika said, coat hooked over one arm, hands on his hips. 

Chrollo dropped his hand, rubbing the back of his neck with the other. He glanced over into the neighboring room, and only then did Kurapika realize the state of Chrollo’s… affairs. 

_That explains the silhouettes through the curtain_, Kurapika thought, looking away. He rubbed a hand over his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, and seethed, “You invited me to fucking _orgy?_”

“I figured your reaction would be amusing enough.”

Kurapika groaned and marched forward. He pushed Chrollo ahead, and together, they escaped the open archway to the living room where complete strangers were writhing in ecstasy amidst the music pumping through the surround-sound system across the entire house. As they walked past, someone reached over the back of the couch to catch Chrollo by the hand. Kurapika averted his eyes. “You’re leaving?” the guy said.

“I’ll be back,” Chrollo promised.

“Oh, will you now?” Kurapika teased, head tipped to the side. 

Chrollo rose an eyebrow at him before starting ahead, reaching for the stair railing. As he went, he said, “Unless you’re planning on keeping me busy?”

“Fuck no,” Kurapika lied. The music followed them up the stairs as he seethed, “Who the fuck organizes _orgies _these days?”

“Consider it… _breaking in_ the new place. A ‘welcome, congratulations for upgrading from broom-closet apartment status to a whole-ass townhouse,’” Chrollo said. 

“_Considering_ I never saw the old place, I’m a rather odd addition to this house-warming bullshit,” Kurapika said, following Chrollo into a room off of the hallway. He kicked the door shut behind him and, once that malarkey was dealt with, he put both hands to his temples and shook his image of the living room from his head. This was not how he planned his evening to pan out. “What in the actual _fuck_ am I doing here? Is Retz here?”

“No—but this _does_ seem like her type of gig… Perhaps I should give her a call—” Chrollo started, pulling his phone from the pocket of his robe. The front of the robe was nearly entirely split open, all except for the waist sash knotted _just so_ so that the strings fell over his dick.

Kurapika waved his hands dismissively. “Don’t—invite her. Fuck, I mean—”

“Alright. I won't invite her then,” he said, like asking was all Kurapika needed to do. 

It couldn't be that simple, but then, Chrollo was tossing his phone onto a nearby chair and crossing his arms like he _wasn’t_ in fact an inch of fabric away from flashing Kurapika. “You know my stance. I could still use you—I’m still interested in poaching Omokage’s customers.”

“Whoa, wait, hold up,” Kurapika said, startled by the term. “You _never _mentioned that.”

Chrollo tipped his head to the side. “It was rather obvious. I didn’t realize I needed to spell it out for you.”

Kurapika could have set fire to all of Manhattan.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he took a deep breath and all but breathed smoke as he seethed, “I do not nor will I _ever_ tolerate a helicopter dealer. Alright? That isn’t how I work.”

“Of which I am not,” Chrollo said.

“Then explain why you knew where I was before this, you piece of shit,” he snarled, stepping up to Chrollo with a finger to his chest. No matter how angry and turned on he was, Kurapika wouldn’t lose his cool. Negotiation was a crucial part of not fucking up, and he needed answers.

Chrollo tipped his hip back against the armrest of the chair and said, “I only trust people who work for me. As of right now, you aren’t billable. If you work for me, you’re as good as family to me.”

Kurapika scoffed. “What, family that you fuck?”

“Is that what you’re asking for?”

“No, I—” He gestured vaguely to the door, where, just a floor below them, a dozen people were screwing themselves senseless. “As if you’d invite people you trust to fuck around in your _living room_.”

Chrollo licked his bottom lip and met Kurapika’s eyes in a way that said he knew _exactly_ what Kurapika did in his freetime, with his hands that were clenched at his sides. Chrollo tipped his head back and said, “Since you seem to have an issue with rules, there is one thing I’d like you to refrain from doing.”

“I haven’t said yes.”

“You will.”

“You motherfucker—”

“The way I understand it, you must have a deathwish. Who do you think has been keeping your apartment safe from your ex-dealer?” 

Kurapika could have slipped right into a coma then and there. He blinked, shocked, and choked back the scream of frustration at the back of his throat. He couldn't even speak without wanting to kick Chrollo in the ballsack. 

“I keep my people safe. Consider that as evidence of my integrity.”

“It says a fuck ton about your integrity,” Kurapika seethed. “Invasion of privacy, _stalking_, what else are you going to confess to before I walk out right now?”

“Just one rule—as good as a confession,” Chrollo said, raising a single finger between them. He put the finger to his own lips, and Kurapika watched it just before Chrollo said, “You are not to have sex with the other people who work for me. You aren't allowed to sleep with clients or customers.”

There was a lot Kurapika could say. He could have flown into a speech right then and there. Instead, however, he said, “Then you can’t sleep with Retz. Or Gon.”

_Fuck—where the hell did Gon come from?_ Kurapika thought, and it wasn’t until Gon’s name flew out of his mouth that he realized one crucial thing: That he couldn't stand the thought of Chrollo screwing people that he knew and cared for personally. He wouldn’t even admit to that if he was in court swearing to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

He swallowed hard as he watched the intrigue lift on Chrollo’s otherwise stoic face. 

“Okay, I can do that,” Chrollo said.

“Really?” Kurapika droned, unconvinced. 

“I have restraint,” he said. “I’m exercising it right now.”

“Is _that_ why you have a six-pack? Wow, I never would have guessed.”

“I’m interested to know why you know my abs personally.”

“Your robe is _wide open_, dude.”

Chrollo looked down and touched the hem of the open front. Rather than close it, he tugged the waist string loose and slipped the sleeves from his shoulders. Kurapika’s jaw clenched, his eyes stuck on Chrollo’s rather than _all of that skin_ showing _down there_. Chrollo leant forward, towards Kurapika’s hot, flushed cheeks. 

“Is your name on the no-hit-list?” Chrollo asked, voice rough but quiet. 

Kurapika couldn’t tell if the pulse on his eardrums was the music or his own heartbeat now.

“No,” he said, “but I don’t screw my dealers.”

“I’m not your dealer until you agree to my conditions.”

“Damn loopholes,” Kurapika said at the same time he thought, _Fuck it_, and stepped right up to Chrollo with his hands out. 

He clasped onto the sides of Chrollo’s jaw and crushed his lips to Chrollo’s. He never kissed anyone or anything that hard before in his life and the pliable response from Chrollo sent a sharp ache through every part of his body that yearned to feel Chrollo manhandle him like the guys he fucked on HUNter. 

Chrollo’s hands tugged on his hips, urging Kurapika up against his front with his legs on either side of Kurapika’s hips. His fingers massaged his ass, down to his thighs, and Kurapika gasped against Chrollo’s lips, his hands cupped around Chrollo’s throat, fingers threading in his hair. 

Chrollo tugged the waistband of Kurapika’s sweatpants down along with the hem of his boxers. Kurapika yanked his shirt over his head as he did away with his pants, leaning over Chrollo on the chair. He clutched at the back of the chair as he watched Chrollo’s eyes glance down over Kurapika’s exposed, pallid skin, his lean muscles, the tension in his arm from gripping the chair with such intensity he could feel it in his bones. 

“Where do you—”

“Right here—on the floor,” Kurapika said, taking the lube from Chrollo without ceremony.

* * *

“You… look like you’re in pain,” Gon commented the next day.

“Rug burn,” Kurapika said with a grimace. He crossed his arms, tugging at his scarf. It was more than just rug burn, but the brunt of it was, in fact, the red on his shoulder blades.

Gon winced, rubbing at the back of his neck. Kurapika eyed him sideways and said, “What about you?”

“Killua’s mad because we didn’t use a condom last night,” he sighed. 

Kurapika looked away with a scoff and leant forward over his knees. “We’re both idiots,” he decided, and Gon didn't argue with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot more to the story than this but I KNOW NOT EVERYONE IS INTERESTED IN KUROKURA so holler at me if you want more or don't want more about what happens with 'em next. I still haven't taken care of Omokage hehe
> 
> KILLUA AND GON WILL BE BACK IN THE NEXT CHAPTER
> 
> If you like Kurokura, there's a Discord server for them now (yay!) [This link expires after 24 hours](https://discord.gg/EnzXFw) so hOP ON WHILE YOU CAN.


	18. It's Just Business, Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gon is given two important details and Killua learns The Truth about Meruem.

“I’m excited to meet your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Boy toy?”

Kurapika hummed for a moment, considering the sound of the term on his tongue. At last, he shrugged and said, “Close enough.”

“Do you think it’s… smart to be screwing your dealer?” Gon asked, wincing. The way he looked at it was, perhaps, biased. Screwing coworkers in general sounded like a terrible mix—outside of HUNter, that is. 

“Are you kidding me? It’s genius. Einstein is probably quaking in his grave,” Kurapika said, and Gon threw his head back and laughed. 

Kurapika hopped the stoop steps two at a time and knocked on the front door. He stuck his hands in his pockets and looked back at Gon, who’s eyes were already wandering up the front of the building. It wasn’t _posh_, by any means, but it was certainly level with the Greenwich Village aesthetic that embodied _Sex And The City._

Gon checked his phone for the hundredth time that day. Every glance at it was a disappointment, though. He had never been ghosted like this before, and it worried him. Had he done something wrong? He always ran by the assumption that he had done something wrong, because if he didn’t do something wrong, he’d have to assume the worst.

That Killua Zoldyck was kidnapped or dead.

The door opened and a familiar face came into view. Gon gasped, pointed and said, “Lucifer!”

“You’ve got the loudest mouth on the block,” Kurapika hissed, shoving Gon towards the open door. 

Gon’s heart leapt into his throat because holy _shit_, he was a foot away from a legend. All of his gay sex position research was pulled from the single most popular channel on HUNter—a guy who went by the username Lucifer. Lucifer was, in a sense, the PewDiePie of HUNter: His fame cemented itself at the infant stages of HUNter’s algorithm and only continued to rise as the years went by. Gon was in the presence of a sex god and he felt the uncontrollable urge to bow.

“Oh my God! Are we collaborating?!” Gon shrieked, because why else would Kurapika bring him here?

Kurapika slammed the front door at the same time Lucifer offered Gon a smile that could have cured Gon’s acne if he had any. “Unfortunately, no.”

“Unfortunately?” Kurapika hissed, hands on his hips. Lucifer rubbed at the back of his neck, one perfectly manicured eyebrow raised in Kurapika's direction. Kurapika looked like he wanted to kick the guy in the shin. Instead, he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Gon, this is Chrollo. Chrollo, Gon. Goes by Freakss on HUNter.”

As Chrollo shook Gon’s hand, he turned to Kurapika and said, “Why is it that you know so many porn stars?”

“You know that Lure potion in Pokémon? It's that, but for porn stars,” Kurapika said.

Gon was still in awe. If Lucifer—Chrollo—looked good on camera, holy shit, he looked even better in person. Chrollo had been on HUNter for so long that Gon had wound back through Chrollo's life like eras permanently engraved onto the HUNter site. Chrollo from long hair, manbuns, to mused, feminine bobs before at last settling where he was now: on short, cropped hair trimmed even shorter on the sides to show of the array of studded earings.

Gon wouldn't let go of his hand.

“Wait! So, you… work for Chrollo now?” Gon asked, pointing to Chrollo.

“That’s accurate, yes,” Chrollo said.

“I don't work for anybody,” Kurapika said, sneering, arms crossed.

“We have an agreement,” he said, and they studied one another before Kurapika nodded firmly. An agreement it was. “I take it you’re aware Kurapika used to work for Omokage?”

“Omokage?” Gon said.

Chrollo forcibly peeled his hand off of Gon’s and rubbed it over the front of his shirt. He sighed and looked to Kurapika, who shrugged. “Why would I tell him shit about my work?” Kurapika said. 

“He sleeps with your ex-dealer’s little sister,” Chrollo argued, and when that was mentioned, Gon startled. 

“Wait—I do?” Gon said. He tried to think of all of the girls he slept with and suddenly, he couldn’t read, see, or hear. Who _had_ he slept with aside from Killua? These days, having sex with Killua occupied 80% of his brain capacity. 

“Retz,” Kurapika said.

Gon actually tripped. Chrollo caught him by the arm as Gon shrieked, “You knew Retz before I started collaborating with her?! Kurapika!”

Kurapika shrugged. Gon was thoroughly frazzled. Not only that, but it felt almost as if he had been lied to. It didn’t bother him nearly as much as it should have. Kurapika was allowed to keep that part of his life a secret—like… the fact that he had been screwing an internet famous porn star since the house party.

As the two of them stared each other down and exuded an air of telepathy just from their expressions alone, Chrollo slowly stepped to the side and walked away from the scene. By the time Gon noticed that he was gone, Chrollo was already coming back with an envelope. 

“The _reason_ I asked Kurapika to bring you here was so that I could deliver this in person,” Chrollo said, extending the envelope to Gon. 

He took it. The paper felt like thick, silky canvas and was sealed shut with red wax. Gon looked up at Chrollo for an explanation. His insides, however, were jittery and spastic like the fanboy he was. Chrollo had given something to him—something specifically _for him_.

“It’s an invitation,” Chrollo said. “I’m hosting the annual end-of-the-year holiday party for the New York HUNter chapter. I’ve hosted the LA one in the past and now that I’m in New York…”

“You’re hosting the one here, too,” Gon finished. He beamed and said, “Thank you. I’ll… make sure that I can come.”

Last year was the first year he had heard about the holiday party, and last year, he didn’t have enough subscribers and followers in time to be invited. It was a popularity event, in all honesty, and seemed rather pretentious. But, it _did_ look like a shitton of fun, and Gon was always down for a good time. 

“Who runs that shit anyway?” Kurapika asked, eyebrow raised.

“HUNter does, but it's a sponsored event. As long as it doesn't turn into an orgy, that is,” Chrollo said. He winked at Gon and whispered, “Considered a liability.”

“Good luck with that,” Kurapika said, rolling his eyes. “You’d instigate it.”

Chrollo grinned devilishly. “I would,” he agreed, proud. “You’re allowed one additional guest. Kurapika’s my guest, so he’ll be there regardless.”

“I never agreed to that,” Kurapika said, and as the two of them started to bicker about it in their weird, stone-faced sort of way, Gon slid his thumb underneath the envelope flap and pealed it open. The card was embellished as shit and written in simple calligraphy in shining black ink. He’d put that on his fridge, hands down. 

_A guest_, he thought, and his mind went straight to Killua. He sighed, lowering the card down. He didn't know if Killua would be talking to him by the time of the party, and he certainly didn't know if he'd even _see_ the guy before then. Killua had yet to attend Greek History and it was beyond nerve wracking for Gon.

“I appreciate the offer, but…” Gon started, and the bickering ceased. He shrugged. “I’d only go if Killua went, and he’s not talking to me anymore so…”

“Killua?” Chrollo repeated.

“That guy I threatened you to look into,” Kurapika said.

“Oh! Yes, I know where he is,” Chrollo said. 

Kurapika gestured to Chrollo as if to say, _Tada! Problem solved_. “You’re fucking welcome,” Kurapika said, flicking Gon in the arm. “We coulda gotten past this way sooner if you’da just let me break into his apartment building.”

“That’s trespassing! And how could you possibly know where he is?” Gon demanded, turning to Chrollo.

“I had Kurapika talk to one of my guys, gave him a picture of Killua, and there you have it,” Chrollo said as he pulled out his phone from the pocket of his sweatpants. Gon lurched forward and leant in, peering around his shoulder as Chrollo swiped through a message conversation. Kurapika glanced at it from Chrollo’s other side and looked away, feigning disinterest until the exact moment Chrollo opened up a paparazzi shot of—

Killua.

With Meruem.

* * *

“K-Killua…” 

_Well, this is awkward_, Killua thought, scratching the back of his neck. He glanced up at Meruem, who stared down at him with a vague look of what Killua could only describe as horror.

Meruem tugged his apartment door half-closed, stepping out into the cold wearing crocks on his feet. Killua grimaced at them, and then again at Meruem’s face when the guy said, “What are you doing here? You never answered my texts.”

“Yeah… about that…” Killua sighed, looking away. He stepped to the edge of the stoop, one foot dropping a step town. There wasn’t enough space at the doorstep for the two of them. “I might have blocked you? So that explains why I haven’t been getting your calls.”

“Oh,” Meruem said. He glanced back at the door, his hand still on the handle. He pointed to it and said, “Would you like to come in? I just need to grab some actual shoes and we can take a walk.”

“Oh, right, sure,” Killua stammered, starting forward. 

He followed after Meruem into the apartment complex. They padded down a long hallway before at last coming to a wooden door with a metal number bolted to it: apartment four, and after unlocking the door, Meruem called out, “Hey, Killua stopped by so I’m just bringing him in for a sec.”

“Okay!” a girl called back, and Killua was floored. 

Discretely, he whispered, “You’re living with a girl?”

“My girlfriend,” Meruem deadpanned, and Killua nearly lost his mind. How could he have forgotten that Meruem had leveled up since their fuckboy days? Somehow, Meruem had not only scored a chick, but also _moved in with her_. 

That was next level relationship status that Killua could not comprehend for the life of him, _especially_ when Meruem was involved. 

Meruem slipped his crocks off and walked across the apartment. Before Killua could take a step off of the welcoming mat, Meruem snapped his fingers and said, “Shoes off.”

“Shit, sorry,” Killua said, already toeing his sneakers off. He shut the door behind him and stepped onto the soft, white carpeting. 

He peered into the narrow kitchen, which offered a window into the living room, where music was playing softly on a set of speakers visible in the corners of the room. He felt stiff and awkward in this unknown territory. As he stuffed his hands into the front pocket of his sweatshirt, he caught himself studying the back of the girl’s head.

She had snow white hair, which was tied back into a gnarled bun and secured with a thick, fabric headband. Killua stared at the white hair and reached up to touch his own head. _Well, seems he has a type_, Killua thought, eyes wide. 

Meruem disappeared through an archway across the room. Through it, Killua could see the dingy alleyway through the bedroom window. 

“So, Killua,” the girl said, looking up from her text book. She tipped her head back and Killua realized quickly that the milky color over her blue irises was _far_ from the steely blue he was used to seeing in the mirror. 

_She’s blind_, Killua realized, eyes wide. Before he could recover from the revelation, she was already talking.

“What brings you here?” she asked. 

“I, um—that… project Meruem mentioned. For his senior thesis,” Killua said. He glanced back at the bedroom archway before moving up to the couch. “And… I wanted to pick your brain about something.”

“Me?” she said, pointing a finger to herself. “Oh, I haven’t even introduced myself—Komugi.”

“Killua—but you already knew that,” he said, laughing. 

She smiled and said, “You used to see Meruem, right? He’s talked about you.”

Killua was startled by that. He blushed despite himself and looked up just as Meruem reemerged from the bedroom, caring a pair of shoes in one hand. Meruem sighed and walked over, saying, “It’s not exactly a big, dark secret.”

“So you’re a pretty open book now, huh?” Killua said, tersely, and Komugi put a hand out to him, gasping.

“Oh, no! I mean, I just don’t shut up until he tells me things! Trust me—he’s no open book,” she said. 

“Alright, that's enough. Killua, let’s—” Meruem started, gesturing to the door, but Komugi snapped a finger at him and said, “No, I'm talking to Killua, babe, don’t be rude."

“Yeah, _babe_, don't be rude,” Killua teased, taking a seat on the couch. He put an arm around the back of Komugi’s cushion and met Meruem’s eyes. Meruem’s expression said it all: checkmate. “So how did you two meet?” 

“I was his econ TA on game theory,” she said. “He started attending the Yorknew chess group meetings and I didn’t know he was my student until he spoke at the end of one of our matches.”

“Nerds,” Killua snorted.

Meruem leant a hip against the back of the couch and said, “Says the guy who used to be a mechanical engineer major.”

“Fuck off,” he said. 

“And I must say,” Komugi said, tipping her head back against the cushions. Meruem looked down at her, his hands braced on either side of her shoulders. She smiled. “I really wish you would have introduced me to Killua sooner. I barely know your teammates! Only Pitou and Youpi and that crazy cheerleader."

“Pouf?” both Killua and Meruem said. 

“Yes! That’s the one.”

“Yeah, he’s pretty crazy,” Killua agreed. “As are the rest of them.”

“They’re pretty nice,” Komugi insisted, a finger to her chin. She sniffed a little and said, “Pitou walks me to class every Friday when Meruem’s away for out of state games.”

“I’m convinced Pitou would have rather left a dead rat in my shoe than walk me to class,” Killua said, looking at Meruem. 

“You never liked my friends,” Meruem said with a huff, pushing away from the couch. Komugi must have felt it because she reached for him. He stopped just in range, so she caught him by the sleeve and pulled him back. “Babe, I gotta go.”

“I know. Don’t forget your coat—you always forget your coat,” she said. He groaned and turned away. She pushed him off and turned to Killua with a smile, saying, “He thinks he’s immune to the cold.”

“Do not!” Meruem argued from the laundry room. 

“Yes you do!” she said. 

Their bickering had Killua’s chest warming. “You two are adorable,” Killua said, unintentionally soft. His throat tightened at the way Meruem turned to stare at him, startled, through the laundry room door. Komugi squeezed Killua by the arm and gave him a firm shake.

“Aw, thank you. Now go! Or else I’ll start gushing,” she said, fanning her cheeks like she was tearing up.

Killua laughed and pushed himself to his feet. He rounded the couch and went to slip on his shoes again at the door where Meruem was impatiently waiting for Killua to get the fuck out of his space. Killua snickered as he slid past Meruem over the threshold and down the hall to the exit. 

At the bottom of the stoop, Killua stopped, pointed at the apartment, and said, “You better not fuck up this relationship or else I _will_ end you.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Meruem sighed. “You’d be surprised how many of my teammates have said the exact same thing.”

“Good. Someone’s gotta keep you in check, and if that isn’t me—”

“No need,” he promised, walking ahead. Killua followed after him, falling in step as Meruem said, “How are you and that… tall-dark-and-handsome guy?”

Killua groaned. He knew why he was there aside from Meruem’s project, but he really hoped that it didn’t involve dragging Gon Freecss into the mix. “I don't want to talk about him right now.”

“Okay. Then the project?”

“Not that either—we’ll… get to that,” Killua promised. “I said I'd help and I will.”

“Okay. Then what did you want to talk about?”

“Who… asked who out? For you and Komugi?” he asked.

Meruem raised an eyebrow. “You want to… talk about my relationship?”

“Yeah. Does that bother you?”

“No, not at all. I suppose I’m just surprised.”

Killua laughed, looking at his feet. He bit his bottom lip before saying, “So… I guess I just want to know the specifics? Like, what was different with Komugi?”

“Than with you, you mean,” Meruem said, and when Killua nodded, ears flushed, Meruem sighed and shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Killua groaned. “Okay, for _one minute_ can you _not_ be a dude-bro and just talk about your emotions for once?”

“Fine, whatever,” Meruem said, waving a dismissive hand. He passed it over his short, cropped hair and said, “I guess I knew I liked to be depended on? But with you I was always used to you… being so independent? With Komugi I got into it thinking it’d be the opposite.”

“And was it?”

“No. Not exactly—not in the same way, I guess,” Meruem said. “And I know that sounds terrible, that I like to be depended on. It’s taught me a lot about caring for and about her.”

Killua thought about how Gon had fucked him through multiple orgasms intentionally for the soul purpose of prolonging the aftercare. _I knew they were similar, but not _that_ similar_, Killua thought, eyes wide. 

“Right…” Killua droned, wincing. “Did you ask her out then?”

“No, actually. She asked me out,” he said. “After that… match she was telling you about. With the chess team.”

“Oh,” Killua said, because he really couldn’t picture _anyone_ asking Meruem out and getting a ‘yes’ straight off the bat. “And you just agreed to it?”

“Sort of. She just kind of decided it. I just went along with it, you know?”

“I don’t know.”

“Look at it this way: She wanted to take me out to coffee, and after that we would do the normal couple stuff until it became an actual thing. I just went along with it until one day she introduced me as her boyfriend and I was just like, ‘Whoa, I didn’t sign up for this? But whatever.’ You know?”

He thought of Gon waiting for him outside of his art history lecture before Zushi ever knew who he was, when Killua lied about working on a Greek History project. Shit like that might work for Meruem, but Killua couldn’t stand the ambiguity of it. He didn’t care about Gon’s aversion to labels anymore—he just wanted to understand how Meruem was able to change if Gon couldn’t. 

The desperate part of him wanted to map it all out. He needed a set date for when Gon would be okay with labels. He wanted to know how long it would take for Gon to stop being a pussy.

“Did it bother you that you were forced into a relationship?” he asked.

Meruem stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket as they crossed the road. “You gotta understand that every situation is both avoidable and escapable at the end of the day. Some things are easier to avoid ahead of time—I didn’t _have_ to go to the chess match, but I did. And when she called me her boyfriend, I didn't _have_ to go along with it. I can quit at any time. Nothing is permanent.”

“That’s so fucking existential, dude,” Killua said, but he could read all of the signs that said that Meruem was right. Killua _was_ avoiding this confrontation with Gon, but he figured it was better than having to escape a potentially damaging outcome. It was too risky.

“So I never gave it much thought. I’m only twenty-two, dude. You’re—what, twenty now?”

“Yeah. But don't you worry about hurting her feelings if you suddenly decide you’ve changed your mind?”

“Of course. But by the time I realized that, I was already in too deep. Why would I leave someone that I care about at that point? At one point, yeah, I didn’t give a shit even if she thought she was my girlfriend. But I _chose_ to go along with it and now I can't turn back. I’ve got a fucking apartment with her, dude—you really think I’m dipping out now?”

“That's not what I was suggesting. I was just wondering if you would.”

“Then the answer's no, I wouldn’t.”

“Okay, good.”

“Good. Now can we talk about the project?”

They talked over the project and planned to get together later that week to introduce Killua to Meruem’s classmates involved in the project. Thus was how Killua found himself in the engineering building once again, vaguely reliving the disaster that was his freshmen year when he followed Meruem back through the tall, wide cooridors to their preferred study corner. 

It was a decent distraction from the events of the past few weeks. Hanging out with Meruem was the most distracting thing he could think of—even more so than Zushi, who couldn’t stop asking about Gon. He figured that with Meruem and the group project, he was guaranteed two hours of peace.

That is, until Killua was pulled from the discussion by Meruem saying, “Hey, isn’t that your friend?”

When he looked up, he expected to see Zushi down the hallway. Instead, he was caught staring Gon Freecss dead in the eyes.

“G-Gon?” Killua stammered, eyes wide. This had to be a fever dream, but after blinking twice, Gon didn’t disappear. In fact, he moved closer, stepping into the study space where Meruem and his team had their blueprints out on the table and a cardboard prototype sitting in front of Killua. Killua pushed it aside as he got to his feet. “What’re you—Why are you here?” Killua rasped, throat impossibly tight. And here he thought he could go a day without wanting to cry at the thought of Gon.

“I figured you didn’t have your phone if you weren’t staying at your apartment,” Gon said. He reached for Killua’s hand where it hung loosely at his side. “Come on—I need to talk to you.”

Killua jerked his hand back. 

Meruem got to his feet. “Dude, we’re kind of in the middle of something here,” he told Gon, who’s eyes narrowed on Meruem. Killua swallowed hard. He felt like he was watching two dogs rearing for a fight—though, one was completely oblivious. 

Killua stepped between them the instant Gon took a step in Meruem’s direction. He was fully aware of Gon’s jealous streak, and the ache in his throat demanded that he interpret it as a sign of Gon’s devotion to him. 

That could never be the case, not when Gon lacked self-awareness.

_I can't talk to him about this right now_.

_I have to!_

_Fuck_.

“Gon, let’s take this outside,” Killua said, and Gon stepped back, his eyes still locked on Meruem’s. He gave a short nod and turned to leave. Killua half-expected him to pin Meruem with the I’m-watching-you gesture. He turned to the group and said, “I’ll be back. Give me, like, fifteen minutes.”

“Okay,” Meruem said, and Killua left after Gon out of the glass, study room doors and down the hall, out of view and out of earshot. 

Killua let out a shuddered breath as he followed Gon towards the men's restroom. They walked along the balcony railing overlooking the building’s lobby, and Killua highkey wanted to jump from the balcony just to avoid the inevitable. 

At the restroom, Killua folded his arms over his chest like _that_ was going to stop his heart from leaping out of his chest and straight into Gon's arms. He watched as Gon checked every stall, and it reminded him all too well of the history building’s restroom where Gon sucked him off in the handicap stall.

When the coast was deemed clear, Gon walked back to Killua in a few short strides that had Killua’s eyes dropping to his feet. Gon’s eyes looked too hurt for Killua to fathom reading into. “Why did you leave? I said you could stay at my place and I meant it.”

“Gon, I—” God, he was so pathetic. His throat closed up before he could finish. He covered it up with a hand over his neck, rubbing at his hairline. 

“Did I do something wrong? Was it the shower sex? I’m fine with making the shower off-limits, but I don't know unless you tell me these things.”

Killua couldn’t help himself. He laughed and rolled his eyes. “Oh my God, the shower sex, right. _That_ is my issue.”

“Are you being sarcastic?”

“_Yes_, I’m being sarcastic,” Killua huffed. “Look, Gon, I can’t—I can’t _see you_ right now, alright? This isn’t the greatest fucking time in the world.”

“Why? Is it because of your brother—”

“Could you stop asking questions? God! I don’t have to give you a reason for every little thing—”

“This isn’t _little_, Killua! I’m seriously concerned, and you won’t talk to me and you expect me to just… _not give a shit_ when you _vanish_ in the middle of the night? I thought you were kidnapped!”

“By_ who?_”

“I don’t know! Your brother, maybe?” he exclaimed.

“Jesus, Gon…” Killua moaned, turning away. He put his hands over his face. His fingers felt icy cold against his cheeks.

Behind him, something _banged_ and reverberated across the bathroom. Killua jumped, turning to find Gon's fist on a stall door as he exclaimed, “Dude, I wanna keep making videos with you! Is that what you want to hear? And if you don’t want to film with me anymore, then fine! And if you just want sex from me, that’s fine too, Killua. I don’t give a shit—just tell me what you want, okay?”

“I don’t—!” Killua started, gasping. He threw his hands down from his face with a groan. “I don't want anything from you right now! I need _space_. Give me another week and I’ll be fine.”

“No! I want to know what’s wrong,” Gon insisted, and Killua met his eyes for the first time during their chat. He had heard Gon say ‘no’ to him before, but this didn’t feel like an injustice—like when Gon refused to let Killua top.

“What’s _wrong_ is that I like you too fucking much, alright?” Killua shouted, his brain imploding. All of the effort to hold it back cracked and shattered, and with it, heat swelled behind his eyes and ruptured in an overflow of tears. Killua rubbed at his eyes in a panic, seething, “I fucking _like_ you, okay? _Like_-like you.”

He could feel Gon staring at him like they were on two sides of a zoo’s glass window. After a few painful seconds of Killua gasping for air, hiding his tears, Gon reached for him, saying, “You—?”

Killua slapped his hands away. “_No!_ Don't fucking touch me.”

“But you just said—”

“I know what I fucking said, you idiot!” Killua cried. His chest hurt like a sonuvabitch from holding back unabated sobs. “Are you gonna change your mind?”

“A-About what?” Gon stammered, floored. 

Killua sniffed as he said, “Being in a relationship, dumbass.”

He passed a hand under his eyes. His fingers came back damp with tears, and even as his throat convulsed like he was one second away from throwing up, he managed to look at Gon and read the answer then and there. _Fucking shit god dammit I hate my fucking life_—

“I—I don’t—I’m not ready… for a relationship.” As he said it, Killua could already feel himself dissolving like sand into a dust storm. It sure felt like a dust storm in his lungs. Gon grabbed his hand, still damp with tears, before he could escape, “But Killua—”

“Leave,” Killua whispered, trembling. He pulled his sweatshirt sleeves over his hands, fully aware of the weight of Gon’s hand on his arm. He felt sick to his stomach. “Y-You don’t understand. Please, just leave me alone until I can step back and think more clearly.”

“But listen, Killua, let me explain. I’m just not comfortable with—” 

“We agreed no strings attached. Give me a week, alright? I just need to get over this—get over you,” Killua insisted, and smiling felt like torture, but he did it, and somehow managed to meet Gon’s eyes when he did it. “I’m serious, Gon. It’ll be fine. We both just need to step back.”

When Gon agreed, Killua felt the tension from _not knowing_ snap. He held in a deep breath and nodded once, twice, and said as evenly as he could, “Now… I just want to be alone right now.” All he _actually_ wanted, though, was to get the shit hugged out of him. He wanted Gon to squeeze him so tightly he’d go _blind_. 

Shortly after, Gon stepped around Killua to the exit. When the door swung shut after him, Killua let out a shaky breath and caught his hand over his mouth before the sob could escape. On the other side of the door, Gon stilled at the balcony railing, his hands in his hair, thinking, _Holy shit, what have I done?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the start of this fic I told the Discord chat I was like "Hey, so Killua's 'ex' is gonna be Meruem and I want Gon to punch Meruem" AND I COPPED OUT. IT WAS THERE, IN MY SIGHTS, AND I COULDN'T DO IT. I COULDN'T PULL THE TRIGGER, PIGLET.


	19. The Most Romantic Proposal Of The Century

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gon has a chat with Chrollo and comes up with a stupid plan to woo Killua back into his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are two major scenes that no one in the Discord knew about in this chapter and I WANT TO KNOW WHAT YOUR REACTIONS ARE Record it, voice memo it, take a pic, WHATEVER I'll post the Discord link at the end XD

** I**llumi was at the apartment that same night Killua had his heart thoroughly handed to him by Gon Freecss. Killua couldn’t believe he kept it together during the rest of the group meeting with Meruem’s classmates, but he did, and he continued to keep it together all the way to his apartment and up the stairs. 

But fast forward, past that night Killua cried more than he had during that entire coldturkey bullshit. Nothing could compare to the agony in his chest from realizing that he had, in fact, been right. He wanted to set fire to all of New York City just for keeping a sliver of a doubt. It infected him and made ripping it out so much worse.

But Gon never lied, at least not intentionally. Killua knew that going into this friends-with-benefits situation. He also knew that Gon’s aversion to dating had nothing to do with Killua—it was just a fact of Gon’s character that Killua couldn’t avoid.

It hurt, but it wasn’t his fault. 

It wasn’t his fault.

It was Gon’s fault.

It was all his fault.

“I don’t remember inviting you here,” Chrollo said as he observed the state of Gon standing on his stoop in a leather jacket and baggy sweatpants. His clear, latino features looked out of place beneath that oversized scarf. 

“Can I come in?” Gon asked. 

Chrollo pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes at Gon. After glancing both ways down the street, he opened the front door all the way and gestured for Gon to enter. 

The first time Gon visited, he hadn’t stopped to observe the place beyond Chrollo’s face. He had been too absorbed in his idol that sight-seeing had turned into staring at Chrollo’s perfect countenance. That remained true as well, because after a quick sweep of the foyer, Gon turned to Chrollo, who shut and locked the door. 

“I’ll be honest—I didn’t know who the hell you were before Kurapika asked about getting you an invite,” Chrollo said, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his fluffy robe.

“Yeah, I don’t blame you,” Gon sighed, scratching the back of his neck. “My channel’s pretty small compared to yours. And it was mostly straight until recently.”

“I take it since Kurapika isn’t with you, this has something to do with HUNter?” Chrollo asked, eyebrow raised. When Gon said nothing, Chrollo sighed and said, “Look, kid, I’ve got nothing against collabing with small channels, but—”

“Oh, no, I’m not asking you to collab with me,” Gon insisted, shaking his head. “Like, as cool as that would be, that's not what I came here for.”

He reached into his back pocket for his wallet. When Chrollo saw it, he asked how much Gon needed, and Gon passed over the necessary cash. Chrollo gestured for Gon to stay put while he went and got a pack. While Gon waited in the foyer, he listened to Chrollo ask, “Why come to me?”

“Because I don’t know how to tell Kurapika that I’ve been blowing through my stash, to be honest,” Gon said with a half-laugh. He rubbed at his temple as Chrollo came back with a baggie. Gon thanked him and stuffed it into his jacket pocket. “But I also don't know how much I can trust you with Kurapika. In my experience, it's not healthy to fuck the people you work with.”

Chrollo grinned and said, “I won't argue with that. If it makes any difference, you do have potential in your… _nine-to-five job_, so to speak.”

Gon ignored the fanboy in him that just screamed at the top of its lungs. Instead, he cleared his throat and squeaked out, “Y-You've watched my stuff?”

“A bit. It’s great when you collab with someone who gets your vibe, but in our industry… couples’ accounts aren't exactly _advised_. You might see a decline in engagement if you and that white-haired guy make it official. Speaking from experience.”

“Thanks, but Killua and I aren’t dating,” Gon said.

“Could have fooled me.”

“And if anything, wouldn’t the opposite happen? My channel’s only grown since Killua signed a contract with me. And honestly, it weeded out all of the homophobes so I’m not complaining about the subs I _did_ lose.”

“People like to _speculate_. They don’t like to _know_,” Chrollo said. “Keeping it vague for the sake of appearing ‘available’ to the viewers is the basis of every HUNter account. You’re telling your viewers, ‘This could be you with me.’ Does that make sense?”

It did make sense, and it sickened Gon. Dating felt wrong on so many levels, and that was certainly one of them. He didn’t want to cause controversy with his viewers.

“From what I understand,” Chrollo started again, arms folded over his chest, “is that your content is primarily straight. It still is—you still make content with Retz, and in my experience, you haven’t lost more viewers because of that. We aren’t in an average entertainment industry. Just because your bullshit with—Killua, is it?—Killua is entertaining doesn’t mean people will watch it. They’re here to _get off_, and if gay sex doesn’t do that for them, then they’ll click off regardless of how incredible the video is. It’s not about homophobes or any of that. It’s about peoples’ kinks and whether you’re catering to them.”

“I’ve never… _tried_ to cater to anyone’s kinks. I just try everything,” Gon said with a shrug, a deep frown on his lips. “And I _know_ that they give a shit.”

“Maybe now, but you still have a small community. You’re still able to make it intimate,” Chrollo insisted. He put a hand to his chest and said, “_However_, when you have a channel my size? You can’t interact at that level anymore. You can’t cater to everyone, and that’s when your content risks coming across as ‘boring’ and ‘repetitive’.”

“I never thought that about your videos.”

“Creators have a different perspective,” he said. He glanced at the door and back at Gon, head tipped to the side. “Was there anything else you needed?”

Gon sighed. He put his hand over the pocket where Chrollo’s weed was. “Nope, that was… pretty much everything. Thanks for your advice.”

Chrollo walked him out and down the stoop steps. On the sidewalk, Chrollo said, “One more thing: Kurapika keeps talking about how much of a dumbass you are.”

“Not surprised,” Gon sighed, shoulders slumping.

“It’s one thing to let the entire internet know about your relationship status, but I do think you should consider making it official outside of the internet. There’s nothing wrong with keeping those details from your viewers.”

Gon nodded, eyes wide. He watched Chrollo recede up the stairs. Gon shivered in the cold and from the adrenaline that suddenly shot in. His HUNter idol just gave him relationship advice. _Chrollo Lucilfer_ told him to _date Killua_.

Lucifer, one of the top tier HUNters on the platform. 

He put a hand to his head. _Maybe my mind really is going_, he thought.

“Wait,” he whispered, turning back around. Chrollo was just opening the front door. He lurched back to the stairs, gasping, “Wait—! I need your help.”

* * *

“It’s cold as _fuck_, holy _shit_,” Killua swore, bundled up in a sweater, jacket, jeans, scarf, and a hat for good measure. He hated sports, so why the fuck was he there? 

Oh, right, Meruem invited him and, to top it off, Zushi wanted in.

Tickets to Yorknew home games were pricey at best and Killua had little motivation to pitch in on such affairs. And as the season went on, the temperatures dropped and the fanatics came swarming—not an ideal situation for Killua. But, it was a distraction, and he could use a distraction or two that evening. He was almost certain Zushi came as moral support.

Zushi came side-stepping down the row of seats, avoiding other peoples’ knees and bags as he went. Killua pulled his feet up onto his seat to make room for Zushi to slip by.

As he sat down, Zushi said, “Want some of my pretzel?”

Killua sighed. “I dunno.”

“Okay, Mr. Indecisive. More for me,” Zushi said. He popped a pretzel bite into his mouth and hummed in satisfaction. Oh-so delicious indeed. Killua changed his mind and reached for one. He dipped it in the gooey cheesy sauce and stuffed it in his mouth. “Did Kurapika ever get back to you?”

“Nah,” Killua said. Truthfully, he didn’t really want to hang out with Kurapika. The guy was _best friends_ with Gon and after everything, he was certain Kurapika would try to convince Killua to go crawling back to Gon. He couldn’t do that to himself, so he had left a half-hearted invite in Kurapika’s DMs, not expecting the guy to answer. Killua leant back in his seat, hands tucked between his legs. “He asked what our seat numbers were and then never responded.”

“Weird,” Zushi hummed, lips pursed.

“Tell me about it,” Killua muttered. “I could go for some of his shit, you know?”

“Well, maybe he’ll show up and gift you some as a ‘Sorry my best friend’s a dumbass’.”

“Seriously doubt it.”

Zushi laughed as Killua scowled at the field. An uproar went around them and both Killua and Zushi startled at the commotion. On the field, one of Yorknew’s brightests was making a leap for the endzone, effectively barrel-rolling across the painted line. Killua put a hand to his ear, wincing as some college guys screamed their nuts off two seats down.

When everything calmed and half time cycled around, people stopped cheering the new score, sat down, or left for concessions. Zushi leant over to Killua and said, “Wow, I hate sports.”

“Then why the fuck did you come?” Killua laughed.

“Because? I mean, dude, you’re watching, like, eleven of your exes play a contact sport. I’m worried you’re going off the rails,” Zushi said, gesturing to the field where, indeed, several guys Killua had slept with were either on the field or on the bench with their other teammates.

“This isn’t me rebounding,” he insisted, because that wasn't what it felt like. It felt like a distraction, like… any other rebound… He shook his head. "Meruem's got a _girlfriend_. I’m not going after him.”

“Uh-huh, and what about those other hunks on the field?”

“I’m not—! Oh my God,” Killua groaned, slapping his forehead.

Just as Killua thought he couldn't be any more embarrassed, something… _happened_. Something both unsurprising and unfathomable happened, and it had everything to do with the commotion on the field. 

Someone near them was the first to spot it. Killua peeked out from between his fingers as a guy in front of them pointed across the field and said, “That guy’s jumping from the stands!” That alone was enough to get people watching, fascinated by the several-feet leap the person had to do to even touch the field. Someone starting blowing a whistle at the guy, who froze near the endzone, the guards hesitating like they were approaching a wild animal.

It took a second for Killua to realize that it was because the guy was stark naked. 

“Holy shit! I’ve never seen a streaker before!” Zushi said, getting to his feet. The college guys two seats down started clapping and whistling. Killua watched the streaker fake the guards out and go running out across the endzone and to the ten yard line.

The seat next to Killua rattled. He jumped, startled, and could have screamed when an entire _person_ dropped into the seat next to him. He’d recognize that blonde braid anywhere.

“K-Kurapika! What’re you doing here?” Killua said.

“Came to watch the show,” Kurapika said. A guy climbed over the back of the seat next to Kurapika. Kurapika sighed when Killua stared at the man, who looked both vaguely familiar and oddly intimidating. Killua blamed the style of his jet-black hair matched with that leather jacket. “And this guy followed me.”

The guy reached a hand out. “Chrollo.”

“Killua.”

“Holy hell,” Zushi wheezed. He pointed a finger at Chrollo, eyes bulging from his skull. “You’re—”

“Oh, look,” Kurapika said, pointing to the streaker, who was now at centerfield. The loudspeakers were crackling from the wind, and Killua realized the guy was running with a _microphone_.

_No wonder the security guards are in a panic_, Killua thought, straightening up. This show as getting entertaining.

With the guards effectively out of reach, the guy put the microphone to his mouth, spinning around and examining the stands. “_Where’s section B?_”

The blood evaporated from Killua’s veins. He felt it lifting from his body like his soul trying to escape the sound of _Gon Freecss_ on the loudspeakers. Gon Freecss, who he could recognize from the bare arse on the football field in the middle of halftime. 

The college guys around them started jumping and screaming, “_OVER HERE!_” Kurapika lifted a half-hearted wave over the head of some annoyed woman sitting in front of them. And then, Kurapika started pointing—

—at Killua.

“Please, just let me die,” Killua moaned, knees pulled up to his chest, hands over his face. Still, he couldn’t help but peer between his fingers as he watched Gon make yet another getaway from the security guards.

He often forgot that Gon had been _recruited_ for Yorknew football. He never knew the exact position, but given the speed at which he carried himself across the field, Killua could better understand just _why_ Yorknew wanted Gon on their lineup. The guy was a goddamn greyhound, speeding across the field with the wind in the microphone in his hands.

The stadium was in an uproar.

“That isn’t—Is that—?” Zushi said, still standing. Before he could answer his own question, Gon's voice came onto the speakers again, breathless and panting on the forty yard line.

“_I have—something I wanna say—to the guy sitting in—row G—Fuck!_”

His bare feet skidded across the grass. He ducked, narrowly avoiding a security guard running straight for him. Killua’s face was beet red. _He_ was sitting in row G. Who did Gon think he was talking to? Killua was shaking, and he blamed it on the cold.

“_Give me a second—_” Gon said, jumping a security guard who had tripped and slid across the grass. The guys on Chrollo’s other side were chanting a mirad of “_ooooOOOOHHH!_” with every duck and dodge Gon managed to pull off before clearing the obstacles, facing section B, and putting one whole, bare-ass arm out, his package on display.

Killua wondered how many people recognized it, his ears bright red.

Gon put the microphone to his mouth. “_I want to be with you. I know it’s been impossible for me to say it before, and there’s a lot I need to explain, but—shit—I gotta go—_”

The microphone was wrestled out of Gon’s hand. Gon put his hands up, which were then immediately yanked down and pinned to his bare ass. Gon leant towards the microphone where the cop was trying to turn it off. The cop cursed as Gon said, “_Wait, lemme say one more thing—_” “_No, you’re done talking—_” “_But—!_” In a panic, he blurted out, “_Ilikeyoutoo!_” as fast as he could before the microphone was shut off and one of the field medics tossed a blanket over Gon’s shoulders. 

A roar went through section B of the stadium. When everything settled, Killua’s soul had yet to return from the stratosphere. Somehow, though, he managed to whisper, “Oh _fuck_…” as he slipped further and further into his seat, his scarf engulfing his aching head. 

Kurapika leant forward, tipping into Killua’s view. 

Completely dead inside, Killua asked, “Did you put him up to that?”

“Nope. He thought of it all on his own,” Kurapika said. 

Zushi clamped onto Killua by the shoulders as Chrollo stood up and stretched his arms over his head. As Chrollo turned to them, completely stoic as always, Zushi asked, “So does this mean you have a boyfriend now?”

“Oh God,” Killua moaned, hands over his face. 

“If it helps, he asked _me_ to bail him out of jail if it comes to that, so I’ve got that covered for you,” Chrollo said. 

Killua hadn't even thought of that. Suddenly, he was being pulled to his feet by Kurapika, who said, “Speaking of—let’s get moving. To the police department it is.”

When it came to spending the night at a football game, Killua certainly did _not_ expect the police department to be the next step. They left the stadium just as halftime was coming to a close, and Killua felt the buzzer rattling in his ribcage where his heart remained thoroughly shocked and unresponsive. He was silent all through the Uber drive trying to wrap his brain around the fever dream that was Meruem’s game. For a moment, he wondered if it was all a bizarre dream he would wake up from and then promptly turn to Illumi to say, “_You’ll never guess the nightmare I just woke up from_.”

At the police department, Killua stepped out of the Uber on shaky legs and half-heartedly shut the door. After that was done, Zushi was waddling around the back of the car to catch Killua around the arm and guide him to the door before he could take it upon himself to walk straight into traffic. 

Through the police department doors, however, he could see Gon there on a bench just… out in the open. Not cuffed or anything and, to top it off—literally—, he was fully clothed. 

The bell chimed overhead as they walked into the front room where the receptionist looked from them to Gon, who stood up sharply at the sight of them. The officer with him was a stocky woman who Killua recognized from the field, but he certainly didn't recognize that friendly expression on her face when Gon vaulted over her fallen body on the thirty yard line.

“I take it you aren't doing time then,” Chrollo said, hands on his hips. 

Gon put a hand to the back of his head and smiled sheepishly. “No, but I've got a hefty fine instead? Does that count?”

“You’re unbelievable,” he said.

“Fully believable,” Kurapika argued, arms crossed. 

Killua stared at them from the very edge of the doorway where Zushi remained by his side, hands in his pockets. Gon was still talking with the officer, so Kurapika and Chrollo hung back by the door waiting for Gon to get his shit together. At the front desk, he was given back his belongings—his phone, keys, wallet, and a tube of lube. Gon shook it at the receptionist and said, “You never know,” before pocketing his things in his jacket. 

“You’re fucking lucky you weren’t charged with a sex offense,” Kurapika said as Gon walked over, all smiles and quick glances in Killua’s direction. “I told you it was a stupid idea.”

Gon bit his lip, eyes sliding over to Killua. Under the florescent police department lights, Killua could see every perfect inch of Gon’s face that he had tried unsuccessfully to forget. Three weeks did nothing to dull the image of Gon from his brain. 

“Yeah, but I got your attention, right?” Gon said, folding up a slip of paper between his hands. He looked down at it as Killua merely stared at him. 

Zushi clapped him on the shoulders, shaking him out of his trance. “Killua’s in a bit of shock right now, don’t mind him,” Zushi said with a firm pat to Killua’s cheek. 

Killua cleared his throat and Gon’s attention was back to him, all light brown eyes with a side of stupidly-hopeful. “That was, uh… the least romantic thing I’ve ever experienced in my life,” he said. 

Kurapika burst out laughing. He slapped his knee and snorted, shaking his head as Chrollo rose an eyebrow and said, “It wasn’t that funny—” only to be cut short by Kurapika elbowing him in the gut. Gon’s expression didn’t drop—it went from uncertain to damn right overjoyed within seconds. 

Gon opened his mouth, sucking in a deep breath like he was about to scream. 

“Oi, this isn’t a party. Move the chatter outside,” the officer said, waving a hand at them from where she was standing near the concerned secretary. 

Gon saluted her and said, “Right, sorry about that. I’ll see you ladies later!”

“I hope not,” the officer said. 

Gon gave her one of his charming smiles as he coaxed them all towards the door like he was herding a flock of distracted college students. Killua could barely turn around without already looking back to catch Gon’s eye as they went to stand out in the parking lot. The instant they were out, however, Gon was once again interrupted by Kurapika declaring that he was getting an Uber. Zushi decided to dipto the subway, and so within a matter of minutes, the parking lot had cleared out and it was just the two of them watching Kurapika walk off with Chrollo and Zushi. 

Killua shivered, listening to the sirens off in the distance and a horn blaring, echoing down the long stretch of skyscrapers to where he stood just a foot away from Gon. The gap between them resonated like a goddamn bass in a house party.

“So…” Gon started, swaying on his heels. Killua glanced at him. Gon was biting his lip, his smile lines _aching_ to show themselves. Gon glanced right back with a slow grin. “Are we dating now?”

Killua looked away sharply. He felt his own hand around his throat like he could stop himself from screaming in triumph. Instead, he cleared his throat and gave a slow nod. He punctuated it with a simple, “Uh-huh.”

He caught sight of Gon beaming out of the corner of his eye. Gon nodded, swaying back on his heels, chin back, proud as could be. “_Awesome_,” he said in the biggest dude-bro voice Killua had ever heard from him. “There’s a HUNter party happening next weekend and I guess this is… my formal proposal to you. For you to come with as my date?”

Killua stared at him. He blinked once, twice, three times before he processed that this was Gon not only _formally_ declaring, but also _publicly_ declaring their relationship. _Their relationship_. His heart twisted in his chest, throat tight. “Yeah, I’ll go,” he said. 

“Sweet. Cool.” Gon looked just as giddy as Killua felt inside, but he couldn’t deny the ache still throbbing in his chest.

“What… changed?” Killua asked. Gon tipped his head, curious. Killua rolled his eyes. “Why are you suddenly caving now?”

Gon’s smile faltered. He bunched his shoulders up beneath his ears and let out a sigh. “I didn't exactly… _cave_. I _did—_and still do—want to go out with you. I’ve just felt guilty for thinking it. I’m still getting over it.”

“Over feeling guilty?”

Gon ducked his head and said nothing. 

Killua stepped in front of him and said, “Dude, you're still on _thin_ fucking ice. Either you tell me what your bullshit’s about or I have to walk. My anxiety can’t handle wondering about it.”

“It has nothing to do with you,” Gon insisted.

“Yeah, but what if it gets in the way in the future? What if _whatever it is_ makes you decide to break up with me? We’re barely together and I’m still thinking about it. Just work with me here, please,” Killua said, half-begging. Just knowing that there was something on Gon’s mind that made him hesitate had Killua labeling their breakup as inevitable. He couldn’t help it—not after everything he just went through to try and get Gon out of his mind. 

Gon glanced at the police department doors and gestured for them to start walking. Killua reluctantly followed, falling into step with Gon across the parking lot.

“I’m done half-assing my commitment to you, okay? I don’t half-ass things in general, but the thought of being in a relationship makes me feel _guilty_. Like the oh-god-I’m-gonna-throw-up kind of guilt,” Gon said, a hand to his chest like he was about to gag. “I wasn’t always like that but, like… growing up Catholic kinda made me a prude back in high school? So I didn’t date _at all_ and I _maybe_ jerked off, like, three times before HUNter.”

“Wow,” Killua breathed, thoroughly stunned.

Gon laughed. “Yeah, so…”

“_Religion_? That’s seriously the excuse you’re giving me right now?” Killua said, unable to hide just how pissed off he was.

“_No_, it wasn’t religion! At least not anymore,” Gon insisted, shaking his head to dismiss the thought. “I wish—I wish I could have dated before—”

“Before what?” Killua said, wishing he would just _spit it out_.

Gon paused at the intersection. The walk sign was on when Gon put his hands over his face and said, “Before my—my _aunt_ passed away. I-I promised her that she’d be the first person who’d know when I dated, married, whatever. She was always the first person to fucking know and now she isn’t here anymore so…”

“Oh,” Killua said in the least eloquent, empathetic way possible. He sounded borderline disgusted, and immediately afterwards, wanted to eject himself into the sun. “I-I mean, I’m so sorry. Shit, that doesn't sound like I’m sorry at all. Gon, I—”

“It’s okay,” Gon said, waving a dismissive hand. He dabbed his thumb under his eye and sniffed, lips pursed into a cheeky grin. 

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I mean, I’m not okay about her being gone, but that takes a while, right? I never quite got over it,” he confessed. He shook his head quickly and let out a loud sigh. “Okay! So, what should we do? I want to take you out somewhere. Maybe sushi? I could go for some coffee—”

Killua latched onto Gon on the corner of that street down from the police department. He put his arms around Gon’s shoulders and squeezed him tight enough to make himself jealous because _this_ was the sort of hug he wanted in the men’s bathroom when Gon interrupted his session with Meruem. He nestled his cheek against Gon’s fluffy, spikey hair and squeezed his eyes shut. Gon’s clothes smelled like dryer sheets and his shampoo. He breathed it all in as Gon put his arms automatically around his torso, his hands flat on Killua’s back. 

Gon’s fingers gripped at Killua’s jacket. They stayed like that for a long moment, until Killua loosened his hold simply so he could lower his heels back onto the ground. He kept his head on Gon’s shoulder, his lips against Gon’s coat as he said, “Well, now you get unlimited hugs from me. There's no time limit for grieving so just… hug me whenever you want, you shithead.”

Gon let out a breathy, quiet laugh. He turned away and lifted a hand from Killua's back to rub his eyes dry. “Yeah. Yeah, okay, I’ll take you up on that.”

“You wanna keep hugging?”

“Yeah, but maybe not in public? And somewhere warm?” Gon said. Killua leant back. He had never seen Gon cry before, and yet there he was, eyes red and skin blotchy and all. His eyes turned glassy and tears bubbled along his lashes as he let out an annoyed groan, eyes rolling away. “Oh, fuck,” he laughed, rubbing his sleeves over his eyes. “I can’t stop _crying_. I’m so sorry.”

“Stop apologizing, you idiot,” Killua said. “Let’s go to your place.”

“O-Okay,” Gon said, sniffing as Killua put an arm around Gon’s back and turned in the direction of Gon’s apartment complex.

The walk to the subway was quiet aside from Killua's frantic brain. He followed after Gon through the ticket divider, scanning his card as he went. Once through, he stilled at the top of the stairs to ask, “Do you mind if I ask, like… where she's buried?”

As soon as he said it, he wondered if his aunt even _was_ buried. Burials were expensive, and from the sound of it, Gon couldn’t afford a ceremony like that back then. He felt like shit for even suggesting it. 

“She was cremated,” Gon said. “I don’t… really believe in keeping ashes anymore. She wanted to be put somewhere _not_ hazardous to the environment and potentially messy, so I dropped a biodegradable urn into the Pacific.”

“O-Oh,” Killua said, eyes wide. He didn’t even know urns could be biodegradable. “Guess I can’t pay my respects. Or ask permission.”

Gon laughed. “I don't know. She’s probably around—you could pay your respects right now?”

"In the middle of the subway?” Killua deadpanned. Gon laughed again. “And if she's always around, that means she's watched us have sex. I don't want to think about that, dude.”

“Oh, God, you're right…" Gon groaned, hands over his face. "She's in the Pacific, end of story."

“If it makes you feel any better,” Killua started, taking a step down into the subway. Gon followed after him. “We could always… I dunno, take a trip to California together? My little sister's still over there and we could go to where you dropped the urn?”

Gon didn't say anything for a while. Killua wondered if he even heard, or if it was a stupid thing to suggest. He shouldn't have said anything. Oh God, now it's awkward. But, after a moment, Gon rubbed a hand over his eyes and said, voice stuffy, “Yeah, I'd like that.”

“God, you sound miserable,” Killua said without thinking. Gon let out a weak laugh, still crying. 

Killua couldn’t help himself. He hugged the shithead again as they waited for the train. He all but melted when Gon reciprocated, because how many times in his life had he been able to do this? How many times could he say he had hugged a person longer than two seconds out in public? He loved everything associated with it because it wasn’t annoying like kissing often was in public. Whenever he saw people hugging like he and Gon were, his heart and knees felt weak as hell.

He cleared his throat before saying, “I should warn you —I might get clingy with you.”

“I’m okay with that,” Gon said. “I just get really anxious about _me_ being clingy, so sorry if I don't reciprocate.”

Killua tipped his head curiously. “Why?”

Gon pursed his lips, looking at his lap. "I just worry that I won't be able to help the people I love, I guess? I always worried about finances ever since Aunt Mito was diagnosed. I don’t want anyone else I love to die just because of money. Money should never come between us and a healthy life, you know?"

Killua felt his throat tighten. “You couldn't afford treatment or something?”

“Not exactly,” Gon confessed with a grimace. “It just sort of… wound up prolonging the suffering. Because at the end of the day we couldn't afford the procedure, so she was just on kemotherapy until the end. She might have been okay if we could have been able to afford the surgery.”

“I’m so sorry, Gon—that’s so fucking awful.”

Gon rubbed at his eyes again. “I know. So that’s part of the reason why I love my job so much. I don't have the greatest insurance yet but at least I’m able to build a savings with it. To prepare, or something.”

“At least the university's got a free clinic,” Killua said, and it lightened the mood, if only a little.

Gon switched topics quickly after, his voice still heavy with emotion. “So where’s Illumi?”

“He’s at my apartment. I can convince him that I’m over you and he’ll go back to Cali,” he sighed, his fingers slipping through Gon’s soft-as-fuck hair. He nestled against it like a cat. He couldn’t and didn’t want to let go, even as their train pulled up to the platform in a whir of musty subway wind. 

As they took their seats, Gon leant into Killua and said, “I missed you.” Heat flushed through Killua’s system just a second before Gon laughed and whispered, “Are you blushing?”

“Sh-Shut up!” Killua whined, shoving his face into Gon’s shoulder. Gon reached his arm back behind Killua’s, looking like a total, absolute fuckboy with one ankle resting on the opposite knee like he wasn’t, in fact, on a subway in the middle of Astoria. 

Gon put his lips to Killua’s hair, close to his ear. He could feel Gon’s breath on his skin as he whispered, “I miss having you around my apartment.”

“You say that like I’m a dog or something,” Killua laughed, lifting his head just enough to meet Gon’s eyes. 

“I miss when you would walk naked in my bedroom.”

“Okay, _that_ doesn't sound like you’re talking about a dog.”

“Who knows? Maybe I’m a furry.”

Killua burst into laughter and shoved Gon away. Gon tried to wrangle him in and Killua crumpled easily, laughing like a hyena, much to the amusement of subway-goers trying to mind their own damn business. At Gon’s stop, they hopped up, and Killua’s stomach ached from laughing so hard. The tears at the corners of his eye turned cold in the winter air as he brushed them aside, still smiling like an idiot. 

At Gon’s apartment, as they waited in the quiet elevator, Killua asked, “Does this mean we need a new contract?” 

Gon studied the elevator door as it closed, a finger on his chin. “Um… yes? There’s something I want to fix in it.”

“Really?” Killua said, unconvinced. The contract seemed pretty standard—not that Killua had _signed_ many sex-work-related contracts before—and it had been incredibly thorough. What could Gon possibly change in it?

“Yeah. I guess it’s just a matter now of… deciding if we're monogomous?” Gon said. 

Killua blinked. It hadn't even occurred to him to even _stop_ Gon from collaborating. That would never sit right in his stomach if he forced Gon to rethink his entire HUNter career. “No, of course not,” Killua said. 

“But—” Gon started, and Killua raised an eyebrow. _Seriously?_ he thought, _This guy has an issue with polyamory? He’s a goddamn pornstar_. The elevator doors slid open as Gon groaned and said, “But I don't want _you_ to… you know.”

“Who the hell would I fuck?” Killua said, rolling his eyes.

“The football team! Chrollo! I don’t know!”

“_What?!_ Dude! I’m over that and _Chrollo?_ Why would I screw him?”

“He’s on HUNter too! Maybe he’ll want to collaborate with you or something—”

“This is ridiculous,” Killua said as he followed after Gon to the apartment. He reached for Gon’s hand and clasped onto it with both of his own, lingering at Gon’s side as he unlocked the door. 

“It’s not ridiculous,” Gon muttered, pushing the door open. 

“It is because I’m not the pornstar here,” Killua said. He shut the door after them and kicked off his shoes. They clattered to the floor as Gon turned to him, brow furrowed and lips pursed into an annoyed line. Killua reached his hands up to frame Gon’s face and gave him several firm pats as he stressed every word. “I only work with _you_—I only _have sex_ with you, got that? As if I’d have the emotional capacity to fuck more than one person at a time.”

“But what about the football team?” Gon asked, frowning. 

Killua rolled his eyes. “That was ages ago, dude. And it was one at a time, you know? Incremental shit. I only ever got emotionally attached to Meruem, but I’m _way_ over that.”

“You’ve been hanging out with him though.”

Killua sighed. He could tell it was just another basic question for Gon, but it was so forward and riddled with jealousy that Killua wondered just how aware Gon was of his own insecurities. Gon wouldn’t be jealous if he was certain Killua wouldn’t run off. 

Killua pushed his hands back through Gon’s hair. Gon’s head followed the motion, his chin tipping back as Killua pressed a kiss to his jaw, his cheek, and over to his lips where Gon’s mouth fell open to capture the kiss with enough intensity for Killua to think, _So that’s where we’re going, I guess_. He curled his fingers in Gon’s soft hair and pulled him close, breathing in sharply as they separated for a split second to look at each other. It was enough time for Killua to decide one crucial thing: 

Clothes. Off.

The instant their lips met again, Gon was unzipping his jacket. Killua slipped his coat off of his shoulders and let it fall to the floor as he backed Gon up past the kitchen. Gon staggered out of his shoes, Killua hopping out of his pants. Gon tossed his keys onto the counter, his wallet sliding right off onto the kitchen tiles as Killua attacked his throat with open-mouthed kisses, sucking wet marks into his olive-toned skin. 

Gon bunched the hem of Killua’s shirt up and shucked it off. Killua’s hands fell to his shoulders, clutching at his biceps. Gon staggered against the bedroom doorframe, gripping at it as Killua ripped open his buttoned shirt and said, “What do you want?”

“You.”

“Wow, never could have guess,” Killua droned as he pushed down his boxers to his ankles. “A bit more specificity?”

Gon licked his lips, his eyes scanning all of Killua from his head to his toes before settling heavily on his half-hard cock. Killua pushed in, lapping at Gon’s jaw and kissing to his neck as Gon let out a low groan, both hands braced on either side of the doorframe. He reached over to lift Killua’s face up to his, their eyes still on one another. “I want you to fuck me,” Gon breathed.

Killua couldn’t agree more. Gon could have said, “_I just want to be naked and chill with you_,’ and Killua would have cummed right then and there. Instead, he shoved Gon back towards the bed, moving fast, and hopped onto the comforter after him. Gon bounced on the mattress, shucking the comforter down and, in doing so, barrel-rolling across the bed. Killua stood up, hopped over the comforter as Gon folded it down to the end of the bed before stretching towards the nightstand, just past where Killua dropped to one knee. Their lips connecting with bruising force as Gon slipped a condom out of the packet and rolled it onto Killua's hardened dick. He shuddered, his breath catching in his throat as Gon dragged his fingers lightly over his length before uncapping a tube of lube.

He put a small dollop on his finger like he was coating a toothbrush before lifting it to Killua’s mouth. All Killua wanted to do was kiss Gon’s stupid face, so when Gon shoved his lubed-up finger against his lips, he said, “What the fuck?”

“Taste it,” Gon said. 

Killua leant against his one raised knee and licked at his lips where some of the lube had touched. It tasted like… toothpaste, like he was at the dentist and being asked, “_Mint, bubblegum, or cherry?_” 

“What’s that?” he asked, now genuinely curious. Gon reached for the nightstand again and pulled out the box set of specialty lube.

“I got it in the mail. We have… birthday cake, mint chocolate, hazelnut, vanilla, caramel…”

“What is this, a fucking ice cream shop,” Killua said.

“Oh! I have ice cream in the freezer! We could—”

“I’m kidding,” Killua laughed, taking the mint from Gon’s hand. “We’re going with this.”

He took Gon’s hand by the wrist and licked up his lubed finger. He could taste the chocolate on the second lick and was pleasantly surprised by how much he loved it. He sucked Gon’s finger into his mouth and released it with a _pop_. 

He squeezed a dollop of lube onto his own hand and, with the other, eased Gon onto the mattress. He leant over Gon, whose fingers were laced in his hair. He tipped his head into Gon’s hand, shivering at the sensation of Gon’s legs on either side of him, leaning into his hips as he reached between them. He trailed a cool, lubed finger up the inside of Gon’s thigh. Gon let out a shaky breath, cursing when Killua’s finger touched the sensitive skin around his tight hole.

When he slipped a single finger in, Gon’s mouth fell open, his brow tight. Killua spread a hand over Gon’s abs, soothing his fingers around his tightened muscles as he said, “Relax… Just tell me when you’re ready for another.”

Gon nodded. His toes curled against the sheets even as he took a deep breath and relaxed as Killua had said. Killua dipped down to kiss Gon’s chest, licking up to the base of Gon’s throat as he worked his finger in and out, curling it gently to coax a low groan from Gon’s mouth.

When Gon said he was ready, Killua put a second finger in and worked Gon open with easy. Gon breathed in deeply, sinking into the mattress with a quiet groan. Killua’s lips left behind hickeys along Gon's collarbone. He squeezed more lube out onto his fingers and slicked Gon up once more before stroking himself in several, short pumps. 

Gon pushed himself up onto his hands. Killua looked up just as Gon aimed to kiss him. It startled a gasp from him as Gon shoved his open mouth against Killua’s and lulled him forward, folding over Gon with is slicked cock rubbing against Gon’s inner thigh. He licked his tongue along Gon’s with heavy, desperate strokes as he reached between them to angle his cock at Gon’s entrance. Gon hooked his legs around Killua’s hips, his knees squeezed tight as Killua pushed in inch-by-inch. 

He leveled himself over Gon with a hand on the mattress next to Gon’s head. Gon’s brow tightened, and Killua felt it against his forehead as their lips separated, the saliva cooling even in the hot air panting between them. He touched his nose to Gon’s, waiting, trembling with anticipation. He felt hot and sweaty all over even though they barely began, and Killua blamed it on the nearly four-week dry period in which Killua couldn’t even think about getting off without picturing Gon in every fantasy.

Gon rolled his hips against Killua’s. His eyes flitted between Killua’s, watching for Killua’s reaction that came out in a low moan. He braced a hand against Gon's thigh, his fingers digging in as he thrust forward, tipping Gon’s hips up to graze every thrust against his prostate. He felt it against his dick through the condom's latex, along with the way Gon shivered at the touch, sinking further into the mattress with a pornographic moan, his voice hitching like some goddamn pornstar. 

“Jesus, Gon,” Killua laughed.

Gon put his head back and mimicked a female pornstar’s obnoxious, breathy gasps and moans. He looked back down at Killua, laughing, and teased him with a roll of his hips as he moaned, “_Oh my God, harder! Oh, fuck me, please!_”

“I can and _will_ pull out, you piece of shit,” Killua said, his stomach hurting from laughing so hard. He couldn’t even get a rhythm going, not when he couldn’t stop _laughing_. 

“_Harder!_” Gon moaned, half-laughing.

“_No!_ I don’t want to rip your anus again!” Killua said, but Gon wouldn’t let up so he silenced him with a hard thrust that had Gon’s fake, pornographic-moans cutting short with a genuine curse. 

He pulled back to the tip before slamming in again, hiking Gon’s leg up as he went all-in. He set the rhythm before Gon could recover enough brain cells to make him laugh again. Gon melted like putty into the sheets, a hand pushed back against the headboard to give himself leverage against every thrust. 

It didn’t take long for either of them to cum. The moment Killua felt the tension in his gut, he started stroking Gon’s flushed cock where it bobbed against his stomach, precum seeping from the tip. Killua gave the base of his cock a gentle squeeze on each thrust, harder when he came in Gon’s ass. He pulled out, still pumping Gon’s cock as he leant back on his knees to slip his fingers into the slick heat between’s legs. He ignored the used condom on his dick as he crooked his fingers up to stroke Gon’s prostate—he wouldn’t stop until Gon was spent.

Gon came just as Killua stroked his thumb on the underside of his cock up to the head. His breath caught in his throat as he watched Gon put his arms up over his head, his skin dewey with sweat, cheeks flushed. He looked like a goddamn model in a Calvin Klein magazine and Killua could hardly fathom being able to lie next to that pornstar with his head propped up on Gon’s bicep.

He nestled in, his throat sore from breathing so hard. He swallowed hard and tipped his head up, looking at Gon’s profile. 

“I’m only gonna sleep with you,” Killua promised. Gon looked down at him as he kissed Gon’s shoulder and added, “You can put it in the new contract if you want, but I’m gonna say it anyway.”

“Then I don’t need a new contract,” he said. He pushed himself up onto one elbow, and Killua’s head dipped onto the pillow. “I trust you,” Gon said, tapping a finger to Killua’s chest. 

“O-Okay,” Killua said, voice hushed. 

He looked down at the mess they made and groaned, pushing himself back up. “Fuck, I gotta clean up and take a shower or something,” Killua said, rolling to the edge of the bed. He pulled off the condom as Gon followed after him.

“Wait—so does this mean you _aren’t_ opposed to shower sex?” Gon said. Killua looked back at him and stilled at that smug, sexy smile. It gave him that familiar, fluffy, airy sensation in his chest that he could now name by heart.

Killua backtracked to steal another condom from the nightstand. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JOKES ON ALL OF YOU!! This entire fic was a PSA against the American healthcare system! 
> 
> This is p much the final chapter. The epilogue's gonna be about the HUNter holiday party, and then I have two funky oneshots planned where Killua and Gon have weird fever dreams about alternate realities. One is where Gon made it onto the football team and KILLUA is the one who becomes a pornstar, and I'm not saying what the second one is because yall will LITERALLY riot at the mere thought of it XD
> 
> [DISCORD SERVER!](https://discord.gg/e7EGU35) Come yell at me!


	20. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gon and Killua attend the official HUNter holiday party that is very clearly Halloween inspired, but I'm a fake hoe and didn't post this on Halloween

“**Y**ou said it was a costume party? And it’s full of pornstars?”

“_Yes!_ But that doesn’t mean—! You didn’t have to buy a sexy costume for it!”

“It’s not like I’m going half-naked like _you_ are!” 

“_I’m_ the pornstar here, dude! Werewolves don’t wear clothes!”

Killua slapped a hand over his face. Clearly, there was a miscommunication error because somehow, Killua had interpreted the party as being raunchy. This much was true, but given his state of affairs (_not_ being a certified pornstar) sexy costumes were optional. Gon, on the other hand, was decked out in ripped, acid-washed jeans, laced-up boots, and no shirt. He let his facial hair grow out that past week and to top it off, he had a pair of wolf ears, fake fangs, and a tail to pull the whole look together. 

Killua, on the other hand, was wearing fishnet leggings and a Little Red Riding Hood dress that was _clearly_ for a woman that would have showed his ass if it weren’t for his cheeky red boxer briefs that hugged his ass and were pinned to the fishnet leggings. He even had a red cape to boot—mostly to cover his ass and shoulders.

And Gon was horrified.

“It’s basically lingerie!” Gon whined, hands over his face. 

“Does it look good though?” Killua said with a little spin. 

Gon groaned and muttered something under his breath. When Killua prompted him to speak up, Gon slapped his hands down and cried, “_Yes!_ It looks amazing—!” 

The bodice was laced up the front with a two-paneled skirt with a frilly black underskirt. When Killua stepped up to Gon, Gon went for the straps connected to his fishnets and briefs. He hooked his fingers under them, still pouting, and Killua grinned as he passed a hand down the front of Gon’s bare abdomen down to the crotch of his torn-up jeans. 

“Then suck it up and drool over me all night,” Killua said, his breath on Gon’s lips. He looked up to Gon’s dilated pupils with a smirk, kneading the front of Gon’s jeans until he was half-hard in them. Gon pushed his lips to Killua’s, and they kissed until the exact moment Gon’s front door burst open.

“Whoa, PDA,” Kurapika said, shielding his eyes. He peeked between his fingers. 

“We’re _literally_ not in public,” Killua said, completely ignoring the fact that Gon’s hands were on his ass underneath the red cloak. He shivered as Gon’s index finger traveled underneath the meat of his ass and traveled _dangerously_ close to the hem of his briefs.

“Nice outfit,” Gon said.

Kurapika did a little pose, a spin, and stopped to gesture down the length of his faux-leather ensemble clad with leather, frilled shoulder pads like a true gladiator. A cape was pinned to the shoulder pads with fake gold medallions. To top it off, he was sporting a pair of knee-high, laced-up sandals.

Killua whistled and said, “So what’s Chrollo if you’re a gladiator?”

“He’s just going as Lucifer,” Kurapika said, pretending to gag himself with a finger down his throat. “_Boring_ if you ask me. Apparently he goes as the Devil at every costume HUNter party.”

“Hey, I mean, he doesn’t have to buy an entirely new costume that way. He’s saving money,” Killua said. 

“He doesn’t _need_ to save money. You know how much people pay to see his dick on Snapchat? Go on, ask me.”

“A lot—”

“Yeah, a fucking lot, bitch. So tell me why this rich bitch is acting like a broke hoe?” Kurapika said, just as Chrollo appeared in the open doorway, his phone in hand, looking both unfazed and thoroughly baffled from listening to Kurapika drag his name through the mud. 

“You realize I can hear you from out in the hall, right? I was just on a call,” he said, gesturing to the hallway as he stepped in and Killua got a look at _all of that_. When Kurapika talked about reusing a costume, Killua expected to see something from one of those fabled pop-up Halloween stores for $50.

He got a whole lot more than that, though.

The largest, most elaborate part to his costume was the authentic cloak that fell smoothly around him and billowed as he stepped into the apartment, shutting the door behind him. The black fabric was threaded with gold detailing that consolidated at the hem around his heeled, leather boots. All of that would have been nothing without the pompous, curved collar that framed his perfect jawline like a goddamn vampire. It was all punctuated by a pair of devil horns embellished with gold.

“Holy hell…” Killua said, scanning Chrollo from his feet up. He stepped back when he realized that Chrollo was within touching-distance, and that was _too tempting_.

“You’re not wrong,” Chrollo said. He turned to Kurapika, who was subconsciously swaying back and forth in the kitchen, feet braced far apart, and eyes on his phone. Chrollo shook his head, sighed, and turned to Gon and Killua to say, “I have to get to the venue ten minutes ago. Are you two ready?”

“Fuck yes!” Gon said, hopping after Chrollo. Killua watched them both exit the apartment as Gon was saying, “Dude, your costume is _amazing!_” Killua scoffed and reached for Kurapika, nudging him back to the hallway. At the door, Killua pulled out his set of keys and locked the door in place.

Their ride was waiting just outside of the apartment complex lobby. The entire way down the elevator, Gon’s hand was placed directly and firmly on Killua’s left asscheek underneath the Little Red Riding Hood cape, which wasn’t entirely off-brand, but was certainly unexpected. Killua squinted at him from the corner of his eye, and Gon looked away, biting his lip. The elevator mirrors showed the reflection of Kurapika glaring at them from the other side of Chrollo’s massive shoulder pads underneath his satanic cloak. 

The moment they were settled in the back seat of the car, Killua leant over to Gon, who’s hand was now securely on his upper thigh. He shivered at the touch of Gon’s fingers grazing his inner thigh as he said, “I should’ve known you’d use the skirt to your advantage.”

Gon laughed. He tipped his head to Killua’s shoulder and whispered, “_Easy access_,” to which Killua responded by elbowing him in the gut.

“Quit jerking each other off,” Kurapika said from the seat opposite them. He and Chrollo were completely facing Gon and Killua now that they were all settled in the back of the car. “Whoever cums on the seats has to pay for the ride.”

“The ride is literally free—I’m not even paying for it,” Chrollo said.

“Then tell Gon to stop fondling my upper thigh so I don’t jizz all over these leather seats,” Killua said, jabbing a thumb in Gon’s direction. Chrollo scoffed and Kurapika kicked a foot out directly into Gon’s kneecap.

“Aye! Yai, yai, dio mío,” Gon whined, clutching at his knee. Killua flicked him in the back of the head for good measure and looked innocently out the window when Gon turned to glare at him. Immediately after, though, he crumbled against Killua's side into a gooey, affectionate mush, nestling his cheek against Killua’s shoulder, and being the overall, PDA sap that had Killua blushing the exact same shade of red as his cloak. 

Kurapika gestured to them, looking at Chrollo as he muttered, “See? This is what I have to deal with.”

“Do you ever find it odd that you’ve watched their porn before?” Chrollo asked, quiet enough for Gon and Killua not to hear them. 

“Who said I've watched it?” 

“You do realize that I've seen your open tabs on your phone, right?”

“I was doing research.”

“Oh really? Is that what you call research—”

“And what would _you_ call snooping through my phone? ‘_Rese-_”

“Research,” Chrollo said with a snicker that had Kurapika’s aggravation boiling over. 

At the venue, Killua had the good sense to get out from his own side of the car rather than follow after Gon. However, it just meant that Gon followed after him. The instant Killua was on his feet, Gon was pressed up against his back and shutting the car door behind them. Killua half-turned with a scowl that said, _Back off before I kick you off_. Gon grinned and instead clasped hold of Killua’s hand for the journey into the venue in the dead of the night with Chrollo and Kurapika at the forefront. 

“You’re _awfully_ clingy tonight,” Killua commented as they approached the bouncer outside of the venue’s ballroom. The bouncer was checking for Kurapika’s name on the list while Gon swapped Killua’s hand in order to drop his arm around Killua’s shoulders and the hood of his cloak. 

“I’d be a lot worse if we were back at home—_alone_,” Gon teased, and it sent a delighted shiver up his spine. 

Kurapika walked on ahead to where Chrollo had already descended the ballroom stairs and was now waiting at the base of the red carpet to take Kurapika’s arm. Killua licked his bottom lip and turned to Gon, who had just given their names to the bouncer, and whispered in his ear, “Who said we needed to be home alone?”

When Gon turned to him, their noses touched, and all Gon could see was Killua’s devious, deadly grin. “Don’t _test_ me,” Gon hissed, smiling as he pulled Killua ahead beneath the archway and into the venue’s main event. 

The ballroom was pitched into deep, violet low-lighting that was warped in a haze around the edges like a classic, _Night of the Living Dead_ graveyard fog that faded around the tables spotted across the room. The tall, marble columns were wrapped in purple Christmas lights that flanked either side of the ballroom. Killua marveled at the elaborate mural on the ceiling that warped with the passing of the colored lights across the ballroom. Music hummed along the tiled flooring and up the soles of Killua’s boots. The party seemed to be in full swing, and Killua suspected that Chrollo wasn’t the least bit early for the event. It _was_ nearly ten-thirty, after all.

“Do you want something to drink?” Gon asked. 

Killua was busy staring at a girl in a sexy storm trooper costume. “Uh… sure? Something non-alcoholic.”

“Of course,” he said, and punctuated it with a kiss to the corner of Killua’s mouth. Killua startled, looking at Gon. It just gave Gon full access to his lips, which he took advantage of in the second it took for Killua to realize that _uh, yeah,_ they were making out in the middle of a HUNter holiday party. 

Gon threaded his fingers through Killua’s hair, holding him still and fast to his hot mouth. Killua could taste Gon’s minty toothpaste on his tongue as he sucked in a sharp breath. Gon ran his tongue along the inside of Killua’s cheek, his head tipped to the side. He pulled back with an audible _smack_ that had Killua's head spinning. As Gon walked off, Killua staggered, dizzy, and put a hand to the nearest tabletop to steady himself. 

“That was… something else,” someone commented from the other side of the table. Killua glanced over at them, and the girl smiled, a toothpick spinning between her teeth. She plucked it out and folded her arms together on the table. “Your channel isn't on your nametag, so I'm assuming you're a guest.”

“Uh, yeah, I came with Freakss,” Killua said, gesturing in the direction of where Gon took off. He passed his thumb over the corner of his mouth and along his tingling bottom lip. He could still feel Gon’s tongue weighing on his own even if it was long gone. He cleared his throat and shook his head back into focus. “What, uh, what about you?”

She tapped a finger to her name tag. Killua leant forward, squinting at it in the low lighting. “Palm,” she said. 

“Ah,” Killua said with a slight smile. He recognized her now, past the white wig and eerie golden contact lenses. “I see you’re dressed as Ciri.”

She turned a little to show off her witcher sword and turned back with a toss of her long white hair. “I’m glad you recognized my costume, but not who I was.”

Killua grimaced. “Sorry—I’ve definitely seen your collabs with… Freecss. I know who you are, I mean.” He didn't feel _nearly_ as awkward as he thought he would. He saw this woman's _vagina_ on _more than one occasion_. He expected to feel a little awkward about it, but of the costumes around the ballroom, Palm's was tame. _At least she's fully clothed_, Killua thought. 

At that moment, Gon came back with a glass for Killua and one for himself. “Hey, I see you’ve met Palm,” Gon said, looking up at the woman.

Palm reached over and pinched him on the arm. Gon yelped as Palm chastised him, saying, “You drop him off at my table and don't even acknowledge me?!”

“Aye! I’m sorry!” Gon cried, shrieking when Palm tackled him in a headlock around his lion-esque werewolf mane. She flattened his wolf ears down and ruffled his hair as he cried uncle. She started kissing his cheek aggressively as Killua watched them, sipping his soda. 

While Gon and Palm caught up, Killua searched the crowd for Kurapika and came up empty-handed. He sighed, leaning against the table. And then, he saw it, at the very front of the ballroom where someone was climbing onto the stage. He recognized those devil horns.

The music shifted and, a moment later, a pair of spotlights centered on Chrollo Lucilfer in his satanic ensemble, which meant that Kurapika couldn’t be far. Killua searched near the stage as people whooped and hollered for Chrollo’s speech. He really couldn’t picture the guy conducting a _speech_ at a _porn_ event, but he was intrigued. He propped his chin on his hand and listened as Chrollo took hold of the microphone and lifted it off of the stand.

Chrollo stepped across the stage, his cape billowing behind him. He clasped his free hand behind his back pretentiously, but considering the costume, Killua didn’t blame _anyone_ for whistling when Chrollo raised one sharp eyebrow at them as if judging every last one of their filthy brains. 

Chrollo put the microphone to his lips and said with a deep, bedroom baratone voice, “_You’re all looking lovely tonight_.” The room went wild. Killua looked at Gon, laughing, and Gon smiled from where he was still trapped in Palm’s arms. “_I’m supposed to make an announcement, but you’ve all stolen my breath. Stunning—all of you_.”

“_YOU’RE BREATHTAKING!_” someone screamed not far from where Killua was standing. He startled with a laugh, a hand to his chest. 

Chrollo ducked his head with a laugh and looked up again, the microphone to his lips. “_Is this where I reiterate the fact that _you're_ breathtaking and point?_” He mimicked Keanu Reeves and a camera flashed at the front of the room. Chrollo turned his pointed finger to the photographer. “_No pictures, please. This is my _job_,_ _you see. When you look this sexy fully clothed, photos still count as pornography_.” Killua could see his diabolical smile even from this distance.

“Hey,” Kurapika said, directly into Killua’s ear. He jumped and turned, and found Kurapika standing _right there_ next to him. “I’m bored. Wanna go smoke?”

“Wha—Dude, your boyfriend is about to make a speech,” Killua said. 

Kurapika rolled his eyes. "I swear to God, if someone calls him my boyfriend one more time, I will _literally_ riot,” he said. 

“But y’all, like… go on dates and shit, don’t you? You said he took you to that restaurant in Manhattan,” Gon said. 

“It wasn't a date,” Kurapika said.

"What's a date to you then?” Killua said, and when Kurapika said nothing, Killua sighed and said, “Well, a date to _me_ involves food consumption of some kind and then sex in the men's restroom. Or anywhere, really.”

“Fuck,” Kurapika said, hands on his hips. “Guess it was a date. God _dammit_, tricked again.”

“_Again?_” Killua laughed.

He tossed a hand up and said, “Yeah. The fucker took me on a ‘date’ two weeks ago, too.”

“Wait, then we haven’t gone on a date yet,” Gon said, eyes wide. 

Palm clasped her arms around Gon's neck and said, “Oh, are you two dating now then? That’s wonderful—I’m so happy for you two,” though she didn’t sound entirely happy about it. 

Gon rolled his eyes as Killua offered a tight smile and said, “Apparently we _aren't_ dating. He asked me out, though.”

“Aw, cute," she said. 

“Okay, new plan,” Gon said, rubbing his hands together. "We eat appetizers and fuck in the men’s bathroom.”

Killua didn’t think they were announcing their plan out loud, but apparently, he had been the only one on board for that idea until that very moment. _Guess I was several steps ahead_, he mused, swallowing hard.

Kurapika laughed and said, “Yeah right! There’s security in the bathrooms.”

“Wait, really?” Gon said.

“Yeah, tried to smoke in there earlier,” Kurapika said. 

“Well shit,” he said, a hand on his hip. 

Meanwhile, Chrollo announced that the awards ceremony would begin. Killua didn’t have an itinerary of any sort (considering he never got a formal invitation) and therefore, as completely blindsided by the fact that HUNter even _had_ awards to _give out_. _What the hell are they awarding, how many times a person cums?_ he thought, eyebrow raised. 

The awards went on for half an hour, in which time Killua learned the names of HUNters he never knew lived in or near NYC. Each costume was more extravagant than the last. A woman in a sexy Velma costume claimed a roleplaying award, and a Victoria Secrets angel costume was awarded best custom lingerie. Major influencers were recognized—Chrollo excluded after having relinquished that reward for instead hosting the awards. 

“_And the last of the night—we’re recognizing the best rising HUNter. This is his first HUNter holiday party in the two years he’s been on the platform, so that should say enough about how much he’s grown.”_

“Shit,” Gon whispered from next to Killua. Killua’s jaw dropped before Chrollo ever said the username.

“_Freakss—if you could come up to the stage to accept your award_.”

On the projector screens, the award name was replaced with a card of Gon’s profile picture and verified username. Gon didn’t move until Kurapika gave him a shove, and nearby HUNters congratulated him immediately over the buzz of the music following him up to the front stage. 

Gon didn’t spend long on stage. He spent just enough time up there to accept the award and say, “Thanks for all of your support,” as his mini-speech before making a quick getaway off the stage. Shortly thereafter, Gon could be found unavoidably being stopped by HUNters congratulating him as he tried to make his way through the crowds. The awards ceremony wrapped up and Chrollo left the stage to the DJ, who kickstarted the music with a _real _banger.

Killua polished off his drink as he waited for Gon to get his ass back to their table.

When he did at last return, he was already on the move again, grabbing Killua by the wrist, and dragging him along. Killua leant over to abandon his empty glass at a nearby table and smiled back at Kurapika, who offered a sweet, sarcastic smile and wave from where he lingered beside Palm. Killua spun back into the crowds with Gon just ahead of him, his fluffy, wolf ears bouncing with each step 

At the dance floor, Killua caught him by the wolf tail that was tied securely to his belt and pulled. Gon staggered back into him, laughing, as Killua reached in front of him to swipe the award out of his hands. He wrapped his arms around Gon's shoulders and held it up for them both to see. 

“_Rising star_,” Killua teased.

“If you keep holding me like that, a star isn’t the only thing that's rising,” Gon said, and Killua could have bashed his head straight into the award. Instead, he bit Gon on the bare shoulder. “Oh, fuck yes, _more!_” Gon moaned dramatically, and Killua _actually_ slapped him with the award that time as he stepped away. 

Killua stuffed it into his Little Red Riding Hood satchel beneath his cloak as someone nearby congratulated Gon once again and asked for a dance. 

Gon looked guiltily over at Killua, who shooed him off without a second thought. It was _Gon’s_ night, not his, and he quite literally _loved_ watching Gon dance from afar. From this distance, he could see the way Gon’s full body moved with the music in a sultry sashay that swayed his hips and rocked his steps back and forth. His shoulders swayed with it, hands caught in the hands of a HUNter wearing a Captain America outfit with thigh-high heels and a tight swimsuit silhouette. 

Killua clasped his arms over his chest, smiling when Gon put his back to the girl and swayed into her. She held him by the hips and gave a little sultry wink at him the instant she found the subject of Gon’s attention: Killua. Killua comically pointed to himself and mouthed, “_Who, me?_” Gon gave an aggressive gesture in his direction, waving Killua towards him. Killua put a hand to his heart and lurched forward like he was swooning into the arms of a handsome prince. 

“‘Oh, what big _teeth_ you have!’” Killua teased as Gon smiled with his wolf fangs.

Gon nuzzled into Killua’s nose with a devious grin and said, “All the better to _eat out you with_, my dear.” He nipped Killua on the lips as Killua howled with laughter, crying, “Oh God! Fangs and eating ass do _not_ go together!”

Gon grabbed his ass with both hands and dragged him forward between his legs. Killua rocked into it, following the beat as the girl leant down to say something in Gon’s ear before leaving their little group. The instant she was gone, Killua put a hand between them and grabbed Gon by the crotch of his gnarled jeans. 

“My,” Killua said as Gon’s hips stuttered to a halt in the middle of the song. Killua swayed forward, his lips on Gon’s earlobe. “What a big _cock_ you have.”

He could feel Gon's smile in the roundness of his cheeks as he purred, “All the better to _fuck_ you with, babe.”

Killua kneaded his hand against Gon’s crotch, his cloak swaying with them and disguising the sight of Killua’s hand dipping fully into Gon’s jeans in the middle of the dance floor. He hooked his free arm over Gon’s shoulder, glancing around them at the unsuspecting dancers before leaning back to see Gon’s eyes on him, dark, pupils blown open wide. 

Killua bit his lip in a way that said, “_Oh hell yeah, I’m in control now_,” and worked his hand down Gon’s hardening cock, the zipper undone, and a look of absolute shock and raging hormones on Gon’s face. Killua leant back in to say, “You’re an actor, aren’t you? Act like I’m not jerking you off, genius.”

And _fuck_, did he _love_ to see Gon’s struggle with that. They rocked together as Gon slowly came undone against Killua, his fingers on the meat of Killua's ass, and his voice low in Killua’s ear, coaxing him on, encouraging every _tug_ and _stroke_ until Gon was thoroughly heated. His wet lips kissed and sucked at Killua’s jawline as his thumbs slipped under the hem of Killua’s boyshorts and stroked the sensitive skin beneath his asscheeks. 

It was a miracle that Killua somehow had the bright idea to have a cape as part of his costume because holy _fuck_, were there going to be finger prints on his ass from Gon’s manhandling. Killua pumped him hard, giving the base of Gon's dick a thorough squeeze that had him all but choking against Killua’s neck, his grip tight. 

In that same instant, someone grabbed Killua's cape and swiped it up. Killua startled, Gon jumped, cursing, and looked straight into the eyes of Kurapika pointing at Killua's ass, looking at Chrollo, and saying, "See? Told you.”

Gon grabbed frantically for the cloak and yanked it _hard_ from Kurapika's grasp. Killua put his face to Gon's shoulder, laughing, and retracted his hand awkwardly from Gon's pants. _At least they didn’t see that_, he thought. 

“Pardon us—We had a bet that you were fondling Killua's ass under the cloak,” Chrollo said.

“Stop making _bets_ about where my _hands go_,” Gon hissed at Kurapika. His voice dropped lower as he leaned close, fully flush against Killua's front as Kurapika crossed his arms and listened to Gon’s furious whisper, "This is the _third time_.”

Killua rolled his eyes as he discretely rubbed his hand off on the inside of the cloak. He put his arms over Gon's shoulder as Gon bickered with Kurapika. 

The night went on like this: Killua and Gon escaping Kurapika in the bathroom to finish jerking off, only to be interrupted by Kurapika bursting into the bathroom, seeing their shoes in the stall, and saying, “_Ha!_ Told you!" to a otherwise apathetic Chrollo saying, “Did it ever occur to you that I've been betting against you not because I don't believe you, but because—” before being cut off by the door closing in their wake while Kurapika chastized the security guard for letting them jerk off in the bathroom. Gon turn and bashed his head against the stall door as Killua laughed his ass off. 

After a third time of being caught by Kurapika (and, against his will, Chrollo),it was nearly midnight and the attendees were drunk out of their minds and the air smelled suspiciously like incense. Killua really only had enough energy to dance for an hour or two before his attention scattered and he was left content watching Gon tear it up on the dancefloor from afar. Gon and his werewolf getup started a linedance sometime just after midnight when groups of people were already starting to leave for their afterparties. It seemed the actual event was just the beginning of a long night for them, which Killua realized as soon as Gon broke away from the throngs of people jamming out to the electric slide. 

“Palm said there’s some people going to a club in Manhattan. Would you wanna go?” Gon asked. 

Killua shrugged and said, “I’m kinda tired. You can go if you want, though. I’d probably just be a lump on a log the entire time.”

“I don’t wanna go if you’re not gonna be there,” Gon said, and Killua felt it warm his chest and seep out to all of his tired, exhausted muscles. He sighed, a soft smile on his lips as Gon beamed back, eager for whatever their next plan was. “We could… go home?”

_Home_. Killua’s lease was _far_ from up, and even then he had no intention of moving in with Gon. He knew the trope well and knew how terribly it had failed in the past. He’d keep his own space and Gon would keep his, and they’d have two homes to go to for the time being. 

“Which ‘home’ are we talking about,” Killua teased, because he knew what tended to happen at Gon’s place and what happened at _his_, more often than not. 

Gon leant in, propping his chin on his hand. “Your place?”

That sounded nice. “Sure. Yeah, I’ll get us a ride.” He pulled his phone out from his satchel and made the arrangements. 

Illumi had returned to California along with every trace of Hisoka not long before the night Killua and Gon took an Uber to the front stoop of his apartment complex. Killua stepped out into the dusty snow, his footsteps leaving a trail behind him as he climbed the stairs, extracting his keys from his pocket. Gon followed, lingering at his elbow wearing next to nothing over his werewolf costume. As they wandered up the steps, he heard Gon peeling off his patches of fake fur, hissing, and saying, “_God_, hurts more than a _wax_.”

“I can’t believe you actually wax. That's too much effort,” Killua said.

"I wanna be baby smooth, you know? You'd be surprised by the amount of people who actually _dislike_ happy trails,” Gon said with a gesture to his fake, triangular happy trail that dipped beneath his jeans. 

Killua pointed to it before turning to unlock his door, saying, “_That_ is gonna hurt to rip off.”

Gon groaned. “Oh, fuck, you're right. _Shit_.”

Killua shook his head, laughing, and started to undo the lacings on his heels. The arches of his feet ached like a motherfucker, and the instant they were off, he collapsed onto his bed, shucking his satchel off as he went. 

As Killua bundled up in the red cloak, Gon fetched the award out of the satchel and put it on Killua's nightstand. Killua swung the cloak open when Gon tipped towards him and flopped onto his side. 

Killua bundled them up in the cloak as Gon sighed, “I’ll leave it on… just for tonight…”

“Shoulda done No Shave November,” Killua said. 

Gon nestled his chin to Killua's arm, peering up at him as he whispered, “Would you still love me if I had a beard?”

Killua scoffed and said, “Uh, yeah? What kind of question is that?”

Gon hummed, pressing his cheek to Killua’s arm before shimmying down further as he said, “Hm… what about a mustache?”

“I change my mind. I’d kick your ass to the curb if you got a pornstache,” Killua said. His skin trembled as he felt Gon's breath on his thighs, his lips kissing their way along the fishnet hem. Gon pushed the fluffy tool of his skirt up so he could nuzzle his red boyshorts. Killua flicked one of his wolf ears off and said, "Get those off. I’m not a furry.”

“I’ve still got the tail,” Gon said, shaking his ass. 

Killua grabbed it and ripped it off of his belt, laughing as Gon screamed like Killua had ripped his spine out from the tailbone. Gon flopped around, pretending to choke on his blood as Killua rolled over, hiding his smile in the pillows. He slapped Gon in the arm and cried, “Stop it! Stop it, I’m serious, you’re being overdramatic.”

Gon grinned and settled in, his face right next to Killua’s ass as he said, “I’m a rising _star_. Drama is my _forte_.”

“Yeah, okay, Taylor Lautner,” Killua said.

He settled with his hand in Gon’s hair after plucking out the entire makeshift wolf ear headband. Gon hugged him around the hips and closed his eyes, content. Killua looked at the award standing in all of its glory on his nightstand, catching the streetlights on its frosted glass surface and engraved lettering.

He reached over and dragged a finger over Gon’s username etched into the glass. There really wasn't a goddamn thing he could have done to prepare for having a pornstar boyfriend, but all things considered, he thought they’d do just fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm marking this fic as COMPLETED but I still have plans to write the Pornstar Killua oneshot so it might pop up out of the blue one of these days.
> 
> If you haven't seen it already, I STARTED A NEW SAUCY FIC ON THIS ACCOUNT! It's called [King of Hearts](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21300452/chapters/50722574). It's basically Fate/stay Night but with vampires and family feuds. Vampires give magic to their human champions to DUKE IT OUT because vampires can't use magic, but can be killed WITH magic. Vampire bites are an aphrodisiac, Killua's a vampire, Gon's his champion, you can put two-and-two together with that lol


	21. KillerQueen — Pt 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a reality parallel to _Tease_, Gon's aunt never fell ill. Because of this, Gon was present, front and center, to witness Killua's football shenanigans after his relationship with Meruem ended. 
> 
> Meanwhile, Killua majored in business rather than engineering _or_ art, which meant that he met Kurapika instead of Zushi. 
> 
> tl;dr Killua's the pornstar instead of Gon.

** I**n a reality parallel to theirs, Gon Freecss’s aunt never fell ill and never passed away. The stress from caring for Aunt Mito never hindered Gon’s performance in high school football, and he went on to compete collegiately—without suffering from one too many concussions. Without medical bills to pay, a full-ride to Yorknew, and a sport to keep him occupied, Gon never became Freakss.

And was also a virgin at the age of eighteen.

Being on the football team, however, meant that Gon met Killua Zoldyck sooner. He was one step closer to kissing his V-card goodbye and didn’t even know it. All he knew was how _pretty_ Killua Zoldyck was for a boy, and how Killua flew through the football players like it was a collegiate sport. 

And _boy, _did it irk Gon. He couldn’t understand why _hearing_ about it made it feel like _blisters_ were popping open on his chest. Hear about Killua’s _‘conquests_’ from his teammates. Hear about how Killua, a supposed worshiper of the star quarterback, was now fucking Ikalgo. Who would be the next convert? they’d ask. Who would Zoldyck kneel for next? they’d wonder. 

_Just stop talking about him_, Gon thought, glowering at Meleoron—a sophomore year linebacker. His locker was directly next to the star quarterback and the suposed ex-boyfriend of Zoldyck. Meruem King, Gon’s main contact with the field and a constant partner during practice. Meruem, who never spoke out against the way Ikalgo and Meleoron talked about his ex. He never seemed to mind their comments the way Gon did.

“Why do you let them talk about your ex like that?” Gon asked as they walked out onto the field that day for practice. Meruem spun the ball around the palm of his hand before putting it to his hip and giving Gon’s question a serious ponder.

After a minute, Meruem asked, “Who's my ex?”

Gon’s jaw ticked. “_Zoldyck_. You know, the guy who’s _screwed_ half the team.” _Except me_, he thought, and something about that statement boiled his blood in his veins. 

Gon knew it was odd for him, a football player late in the collegiate season, to be a complete and utter version. That became abundantly clear to him the second he joined the team and properly met the members of it. Every afterparty was a complete shitshow of the guys throwing Gon into the masses of women they checked through the front door of the house. Gon was grateful he didn't live at the frat house, all things considered. He couldn’t imagine living surrounded by rooms that were occupied by football players fucking their girlfriends—or other girls that _weren't_ their girlfriends. 

He should have known football players were sleezy, but never like this. 

“Oh, yeah, Zoldyck,” Meruem said, tapping a finger to his chin. “I guess I haven't really heard the guys talk about him. Why, has he found someone else on the team?”

_Did he completely miss what I just said?_ Gon wanted to simultaneously pull his hair out and scream. “Meleoron was _just_ talking about how Ikalgo and Zoldyck slept together at the party last night! They were literally making out right in front of you.”

“No, I thought that was a girl.”

“He’s got short hair!”

“Lots of girls have short hair,” Meruem said, only to frown and say, "I think? I haven’t been keeping track. When did that hairstyle become a thing? The one with the fairies.”

“_Pixie cuts_?” 

“Yeah, that.”

Gon threw his arms up and groaned. He was getting nowhere with this. Clearly, Meruem didn't give two crying shits about the way Meleoron and Colt were recreating (albeit, _clothed_) the way Zoldyck supposedly fucked Ikalgo while their teammates recorded it and the reaction they got out of Ikalgo.

Gon had watched game-by-game as guys on the bench and on the field were ticked off Zoldyck’s hit-list (or rather, fuck-list). They all creeped closer and closer to him, and the closer the came, the more Gon anticipated it with a cold sense of panic. But there was also excitement! So much excitement, in fact, that Gon thought he might pass out if Zoldyck pulled something on him. Preferably his penis, but Gon wasn’t picky. 

The next week, however, was different. After terrorizing the team for an entire month, there was radio silence on the Zoldyck front. 

Gon spent the entirity of their celebratory party with a solo cup in hand, watching the front door for Zoldyck to walk in. He pictured Zoldyck with his white hair and leather jacket strolling up the frat steps, perpetually disinterested eyes locking on his, and the world would slow. And Gon would know. Gon was so goddamn desperate to be prey that when Zoldyck _didn't_ show up by two in the morning, Gon wished he never considered being bisexual. 

Gon crushed his empty solo cup in hand and threw it in the kitchen bin. Of course he wasn’t bisexual. What was he thinking? Sex with a _guy?_ Didn’t that hurt? Was he a masochist or something? Considering he was catholic, he shouldn’t have been surprised by the news. Aye yai yai, Aunt Mito probably knew _exactly_ what he was thinking. He tended to think that before ever realizing that _frick_, God knew exactly what he was thinking. God knew that Gon was bicurious for half a month there and didn’t bother to tell him. How _dare_ He.

Gon left the party dejected, rejected, and distraught. 

And also feeling kind of weird. He blamed the alcohol, but he was sure alcohol wasn’t what made him so tingly and _needy_. He wanted to hug someone or something so terribly, so when he got to his dorm room and face-planted into the covers, he weaseled his pillow out from under his head and hugged it like his life depended on it. 

When he closed his eyes, he pictured the scene Meleoron and Colt had painted in his head last week in the locker room. The closest Gon ever got to pornography was that time he made the godawful decision of pirating a TV show on one of those sketchy anime sites that asked for him to disable ad block so they could assault his retinas with boobs. Oh, and also health class with those flat, lineart drawings diagraming sex for kids who likely were all _too_ familiar with those drawings in HD.

But boy, did Gon have an imagination. 

He couldn't stop picturing it. Killua, with his hands _gripping_ Ikalgo’s hips. It made him sick to his stomach, but he couldn't stop _seeing it everywhere_. On the back of his eyelids, in his brain, engraved on his _skull_. 

_Enough is enough_, Gon thought, grabbing his laptop from his desk. 

He collapsed on his bed, legs crossed. He shoved open his laptop. He opened a new tab (among the sixty others) on his browser and made his first grave mistake: Not going incognito. 

His second grave mistake: Typing in the only porn site he knew of otherwise known as HUNter.tv. 

He expected to see vaginas all up on the thumbnails, just everywhere. Filthy with them. Instead, the thumbnails were tame—teasing, but not explicit, and Gon let out a breath of relief. Thank _God_ for saving his sweet, sweet virgin eyes. 

Gon pulled his knees up, eyes wide, as he clicked on the first profile being advertised on the homepage. The video opened with a scene of a room enshrouded in neon pink lighting and a wide angle shot of a bed at the center of the room. 

The camera was off center until a hand reached out to straighten it, and a girl leant into view. Blonde hair, a small, shy smile, and tight, faux leather lingerie on. It crisscrossed over her chest and hooked to a collar around her throat where a metal ring hung when she leant into the camera and said with a slight pout, “_I heard you’ve been a _bad boy_ today. You know how I feel about that—we'll have to rectify it, won't we?_”

Gon slapped his laptop shut. He put a hand to his chin, his jaw, and over his mouth as he stared at the wall ahead of him and thought, _How did she know?_

He opened his laptop again, too weirded out, and clicked back to the homepage. A new profile was being advertised, but he already felt guilty from that girl berading him like that. _Maybe I shouldn't_, he thought, _while I still have self-control_.

And so he didn’t.

Until the very next day when he woke up with a boner.

It didn’t happen very often, but when it _did_ happen, it was never for any particular reason. But since he went to bed the previous night… _horny_ (forgive him, Father, for he hath sinned), he knew it had everything to do with the weird kind of sexy, kind of _humiliating_ dream that involved Zoldyck in the faux leather lingerie and Gon, completely butt naked during a Greek History presentation. 

However, because Gon was now on the football team, he had no reason to know that Killua Zoldyck was _in_ his Greek History lecture because he sat with one of his teammates near the front of the 300 person lecture hall. He had no reason to look past the third row, where he sat, to where Zoldyck frequented the very back of the hall, brooding and sleep deprived with a hoodie to cover his bright white hair. 

Gon laid in his bed and groaned. He could feel his erection underneath his underwear like it was a croissant shoved into his boxer briefs. He put his hands over his face and moaned, “This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening…” He lifted his blanket and looked down, only to push it back down with another groan. “Oh, God, it’s happening. Alright, okay, wooee, here we go.”

He sat up, stood up, and promptly realized that he wasn’t at home. Home was thousands of miles away with a bathroom that _wasn’t_ shared with a dozen other guys on his floor. He didn’t want to _walk around_ with an erection anyway! What if someone saw?

He put his hands on his hip, a _very_ noticeable bulge straining against his boxer briefs. Yeah, there was no covering that, unless he wanted to wear a parka on his way to the bathroom. What was he going to _do_ in the bathroom, anyway?

Exactly what he could do right here, right now. 

“Screw it,” he huffed, going to his desk. He rubbed a palm over his crotch, mostly out of habit and also because it was uncomfortable just sticking out there, being a safety hazard. It felt kinda good so he kept at it as he opened the still-open tab on his computer where the HUNter homepage stared back at him.

The same profile was being advertised and the thumbnail featured someone’s body in deep blue lighting on white sheets from the neck down with their crotch pixeled out and covered by red lingerie. Definitely a guy, and Gon considered his existential crisis from just the day before when Zoldyck unknowningly stood him up. He kinda liked the look of the HUNter’s lean muscles—not bulky, like his teammates, so Gon figured he couldn’t confuse the guy with _them_. 

_That’d be weird_, Gon thought, but after the whole visualization of Zoldyck with Ikalgo, Gon couldn't look at Ikalgo the same way again. 

Gon shook his head and clicked the thumbnail where it was titled ‘_Strip tease_’ by a user named KillerQueen.

The quality of this video was _different_. 

The dark mood lighting and the crisp resolution, the gaussian blur, and the shine on the guy’s skin had Gon _tingling_ with want. He sat on the edge of his seat, enthralled and _wishing_ he would have just opened this video last night. He wanted to experience this in a dark room with nothing but the sharp, crystal-clear sound of the HUNter’s voice low in his ear, reduced to a whisper. Even the sound of the guy’s fingers drawing a line up his oiled thigh was crisp in Gon’s headphones. 

The shift of the sheets. The camera, solely focused on the guy’s lips as they parted, a thread of saliva connecting them until his tongue licked out along his bottom lip. Gon could see every damn tastebud on his tongue where the light caught on it. 

His thumb dragged along his neck, his collarbone, and the camera picked up the divot of his nail against his skin and the faint, but prevalent line it left behind for a mere second. His thumb hooked under the strap of the lingerie and began its slow, tantalizing descent down his shoulder, slipping underneath every thin strand of fabric that laced along his lean biceps. 

Gon could feel his willy throbbing against his stomach. He ran his hand back and forth along the hem of his boxers as he listened to the sound of the stranger’s breath in his ear. 

He put his hand into his boxers as the camera panned to a hand lacing through blonde hair, dragging it back from the guy’s forehead. 

He grasped his penis as the camera faded out of focus as it lowered. The resolution sharpened over the guy’s long, _beautiful_ eyelashes and the smooth, pale texture of his eyelid just before his eyes opened and—

Gon yelped at the sight of _Killua Zoldyck’s_ eyes in high resolution on his Macbook Pro. He stared at it, his grip on his erection tightening with every second he blinked and stared, blinked and stared, and started to realize that no, he wasn’t imagining this. He really _was_ watching Killua Zoldyck perform an ASMR strip tease.

Gon let go of his penis, rubbed his hand off, and gripped the sides of his computer screen to watch the video up close and personal—

Killua’s nipple slipped—

Gon couldn’t breathe—

Killua’s flat, toned stomach showed through lace and sheer fabric—

And the video went black and a light box popped up requesting Gon subscribe to view more.

Gon put his forehead to his desk and groaned.

* * *

Like Gon, only one thing changed in Killua’s life. One thing, that changed everything.

Illumi Zoldyck never broke up with Hisoka. Because of this, Illumi moved out at the age of eighteen and instead moved in with Hisoka. Killua stopped talking to him because he found Hisoka creepy and weird. Illumi, supporting the finances, allowed Hisoka access to everything he would ever want, and Hisoka no longer felt the need to ‘show Illumi what he was missing’. Hisoka never became Penniwise. 

Without Illumi there to tether Killua to the family, however, Killua cut off all ties. For real this time. This meant that he was financianlly independent and financially struggling.

And also horny, in an existential crisis, and _pissed off_ at Meruem. 

Killua never majored in engineering because he was no longer “acting out” against his family. However, he was afraid of failing financially with an art degree, so he majored in… business. Business, the major Gon met Kurapika in, and the major Gon was no longer studying. Business just seemed safe and doable, but _fuck_, was he wrong about that or _what_?

The Yorknew business school was for pretentious slobs who scored high on their SATs but didn’t make it into an Ivy League. It was easier to transfer in the second year, but since Killua got in on his first try, he stuck with it and met Kurapika in the building while waiting for one of the lecture halls to clear out. They didn't exactly have class together—they had the same schedule, just rearranged—so Killua really had no reason to latch on the way he did. 

So when Killua was saving up for his first apartment, he started job hunting, and searching, and hunting, and searching, to no avail.

“If I can somehow scrape together first month’s rent on _top_ of the deposit, that'd be great. Thanks,” Killua sighed over an economics textbook several weeks after meeting Kurapika. 

At this point, Kurapika was still working for Omo, and still good friends with Retz. He wasn’t in a crisis situation, though, and therefore, held his tongue. So it wasn’t _his_ fault Killua tried out porn. “Try Starbucks,” Kurapika said. 

"I'd rather piss acid,” Killua said with a groan. “And I already tried that.” He switched gears and went back to job hunting on his laptop. Since it wasn’t Kurapika's fault, it _had_ to be the fault of somebody, right?

Precisely.

It was Ikalgo.

“How come you always send risky Snapchats? I wish you'd give me a warning, Jesus,” Ikalgo said one day as he let Killua into his apartment building. 

“Well if you don’t want ‘em, I’ll stop sending ‘em,” Killua said with a shrug. 

“Shit no! I just mean—Like, I wish you had a separate Snapchat account so I’d _know_, theoretically, what Killua I was talking to. The Everyday Killua or the Horny Killua.”

“Everyday Killua is always horny,” he deadpanned, and Ikalgo rolled his eyes. 

“You know what I mean.”

“Don’t people pay for that shit, though?” Killua said, and Ikalgo shrugged and said offhandedly, “Dunno, but I’d pay for it.”

Killua could see a world where he had a separate Snapchat for all of his booty calls. All of them—not that he had many these days. After it became apparent that Meruem was entirely done with him, he dropped the football team. Except Ikalgo. He didn't see the point in fucking around with them if Meruem wasn’t even looking. 

Of course he wasn’t looking. Meruem didn’t give a damn about him, and that hurt like a sonuvabitch. Killua’s chest seized up at the thought, and he rubbed angrily at it as Ikalgo walked them through his apartment door and into the foyer where they could get on with their lives and the topic at hand otherwise known as Killua’s dick. 

But after that was taken care of, Killua spent the late afternoon in Ikalgo’s flat on his phone while Ikalgo napped beside him. Killua pursed his lips as he looked into setting up a new Snapchat account, and in doing so, stumbled across a thread about premium Snapchats. 

He sat up a bit straighter, pulling his knees up as he read through accounts of e-girls becoming camgirls and Killua couldn’t believe he never thought about it before. Of _course_ people would pay to see his body, but it wasn’t just that. It was the _intrigue_, the way he’d drive them mad with sultry shots and sexy strip teases. Unsolicited dick pics were in the past, bitch. Premium Snapchat was where it was at, and Killua hopped on that bandwagon as fast as he could. 

It was November, the month when college students just now started to scramble for a new lease for the following fall. Likewise, Killua needed to get this ball rolling—_fast_. To do that, he needed help, and while Ikalgo was an excellent pick (considerng he’d seen Killua’s dick), he needed someone who understood his business mind and the benefit of this Snapchat account.

Kurapika.

Kurapika _could_, theoretically, have put a stop to this. He could have reminded Killua about how idiotic this idea was. Killua didn't even have a fanbase—premium Snapchats were primarily successful with established influencers, _not_ random wannabes—and to top _that_ off, where the hell was Killua going to find his fanbase anyway?

“All these threads talk about e-girls so what if I just became a streamer?”

“You can _barely_ play Minecraft,” Kurapika reminded him, and Killua scowled off to the side. Damn, Kurapika was right. “_But_ that could be your whole ‘gimmick’ or whatever. That you suck at video games. Like, ‘_Oh no! I've been killed! Save my belongings before they disappear and I’ll owe you my life and a dick pic!_’”

So Killua decided to make an investment. A few of them, in fact, with the plan of paying _them_ off and his deposit by the end of December. He wound up paying them off before the end of November.

All by moving onto HUNter. 

His investment? Lighting and a pricey DSLR camera to use for game streams and photoshoots.

Killua couldn’t stand the look of basic selfie-photos or the low-res jerking-off shots that seemed to riddle premium Snapchat accounts, so he went for a different take. He was an artist at heart, dammit, and he wanted to take this seriously. He took the DSLR, the lighting, and turned it into an HBO original series with all the appropriate angles courtesy of Kurapika accepting the fact that yes, this was his life now, and Killua had dragged him into it. 

“It's not like I’m gonna jerk off in front of you,” Killua insisted. 

“I honestly wasn’t gonna question it,” Kurapika sighed, lowering the camera mount. “Is this really necessary? It’s _Snapchat_.” 

“Uh, yeah? And then I can make compilations on HUNter with them,” Killua explained, slowly dragging his fingers down the middle of his chest as Kurapika watched the viewfinder and followed the motion of it. They were in Killua’s dorm room like a bunch of idiots, immitating _mood lighting_ via the partially blinded windows and Killua’s bluish ring light. “It’s called the _art_ of _reusing shit_ for _profit_.”

“This is severely high quality for something people only pay ten bucks a month for. I told you—you shoulda gone for the twenty-five dollar model.”

“And I told _you_ that I’ll up my rates once I make the deposit,” Killua said. “I’m technically in _debt now_ thanks to the camera.”

After assembling enough content to damn Killua’s reputation (or save it), a week had passed and Killua’s social media presence spread like wildfire. Twitter, Instagram, Tumblr, Twitch, and finally, HUNter and Snapchat. The promotional materials were assembled, and it was all a matter of analyzing the best times to post, the best times to go live, the best environment for his promotional materials to go _viral_. He knew enough about the market at this point after researching e-girls and their camgirl sidegigs how to appropriately advertise on stream without looking like a desperate asshole.

Killua really _wasn’t sure_ what could get him kicked off of streaming services for gaming. He didn't game, how was he supposed to know these details? And he hadn’t seen any other e-girls and camgirls do this, so he whipped out a vibrating buttplug on his first stream, stuck it in his ass before the stream, and decided to play a few matches of Overwatch whilst on the brink of an orgasm.

It seemed like a cool idea.

At first.

It wasn’t like anyone was going to see his dick on stream, and it was from the comfort of his dorm room. A controlled _setting_. It was bluetooth so he had the goddamn remote _detached_ from the damn thing, alright? He wasn't a caveman. And if worse came to worst, there was this _blissful thing_ called a ‘scene change’ so he could skip to a Be Right Back screen, get cleaned up, and be on in a jiffy. 

He advertised it on his social media with a cropped, close up picture of him licking his console controller and explaining what the _deal_ was. He didn’t expect much of it—every guidebook to starting a streaming or camboy career prefaced this. He wouldn't, by any means, make a name for himself in one stream. But even _that_ didn’t go exactly according to plan.

Instead, within the first few minutes of the Stream Starting Soon screen, people began to flow in. Killua leant forward in his seat, to see the few names popping into the chat. In doing so, he felt the buttplug arc against his prostate, and his breath hitched, hands closed into fists against the edge of his desk. 

_Oh, this is going to be fun_, he thought with a devious grin.

When the time ticked to the official start, Killua rolled his shoulders back with a smug, condescending smile that he couldn't help. And then, he turned his webcam on, licked his bottom lip, and addressed the chat like he'd been doing this for _years_. 

And everyone knew what was in his ass straight from the get-go. 

Killua had the game up and running within thirty minutes of introductions and only _slight_ discomfort whenever he moved or reached too far forward. Still, the ball of tension in his gut was strung tight, tighter than it had been in a _while_. He blamed it on the nerves and energy that came with streaming in front of complete strangers—up until the exact moment the game loaded up and he was thrown into the match.

He raised up the remote and said, “We all know what that means," before spinning the dial to the first notch. 

He felt the slow, throbbing pulse directly beneath his prostate. He let out a shuddered gasp and gripped the controller with all his might. He never once played Overwatch before but fuck it, if he wasn't going to be a complete abomination at it not only because of his mediocrity, but also because of the vibrating buttplug in his ass. He let out a soft laugh and glanced at the chat where he could see himself on screen, smiling like a goddamn idiot. 

He looked _good_ though, so he quite frankly couldn’t care less if people took screenshots of him as he said, “_Fuck_, I’m so r-ready to _win this match_, if you know what I mean.” 

He shifted back in his seat as he traversed the landscape at lightning speed. His controls turned awkward and jerky when he rocked his hips forward with a short, breathy, “Oh, fuck,” when the buttplug rubbed against his prostate and lingered there, pumping short, rolling vibrations against it that left Killua’s mouth ajar. 

He paused in the midst of reading the messages that were now pouring into his stream. He let out a low, airy laugh before he caught his breath with a sharp swallow. “S-Some people have asked where they can find me elsewhere. All of the links are in my socials tab. _Shit_.”

Laughing again, he barely got back into the game before he inadvertently rocked his hips against the vibrator. It was more out of habit than anything, and _fuck_, he wanted to keep at it. He wanted to milk the shit out of his prostate right then and there, but he was barely a minute into the match and his teammates were probably wondering who the muted player was and what they were _doing_ just _standing there_.

Killua composed himself for a total of two more minutes playing support during the match whilst complete strangers carried him to the grand finale when their team swept the board clean and Killua kicked his vibrator up another notch. He put the remote up to the webcam and flicked the knob forward, and the instant he did, he jolted at the hum that became audible when he lifted his hips _just so_…

“O-O_h_,” Killua moaned, sucking in a sharp breath. He caught it between his teeth as his thumbs slipped off of the joysticks. He ducked his head with a laugh, his smile oh-so prevalent on stream simply from his rounded cheekbones and deep smile lines. He looked up and read the next comment, only to laugh again. 

“‘_I’d love to squad up with you. Not that you’ll be any help in the game or whatever_.’ Yeah, right. W-Would it surprise you that this is my first Overwatch match since I started university?” Killua said, biting his lip. The console was a holiday gift a year prior, and Killua took it with him across the country. He wasn't going to give it up. 

He narrowly dodged getting _murdered _on the rooftop of some building before the chase was abruptly cut off by the shiver that rocked through Killua's body and made him _sharply_ aware of the dampness on his lap. He choked out another curse, barely managing to keep his eyes on the screen. 

The day before, at approximately nine in the evening, Killua and Kurapika had released his “pilot” video onto his HUNter channel simply to establish his presence and create a destination for new clicks. An empty profile wouldn't be exciting for newfound viewers to stumble upon, and so Killua’s aesthetic, artistic promotional video.

And, so, when Killua orgasmed on a video game stream in front of several dozen random, horny viewers, he made a goddamn name for himself. His account was active for the one stream and within several days and two streams later, he went to check his growing follower count only to find his account suspended for “displaying sexual content” on stream.

_Oh well_, he thought with a sigh, _it was worth a shot._

It didn’t matter much to him considering the number of subscriptions he got just within that first week on not only his HUNter account, but also his premium Snapchat. He had an income, however small, but it was an incredible start, all things considered. And, to top it off, people seemed to really enjoy his method of gaming, so to speak. He made pre-recorded videos along the same lines and uploaded them to his HUNter account where he wouldn’t be suspended for "adult content”. 

He made one thing clear, though, in all of his videos. It was one or the other: His body, or his face. His paranoia prevented him from fullbody shots, and so his artistic films remained narrowly cropped, intimate, up-close. His gaming videos were always cropped above the waist, and with a simple editing software, he put the gaming footage in the bottom corner so he became the primary subject of the film. Him, and his expressions. His oh-so orgasmic expressions. 

Surprisingly, it didn’t take long before a message appeared in his Instagram inbox that _wasn’t_ along the lines of, “_Let me fuck you baby_” or “_Send me a pic just for me_”. Instead, it was a brand who fully believed that _he_ was legitimate. _Him_. Killua Zoldyck, a legitimate influencer. It nearly made him laugh if he didn’t love the idea so much. 

“They’re sending me a line of lingerie to model in,” Killua explained to Kurapika, his accidental designated cameraman, over boba. “I was hoping you might… help me film it this weekend? They just want a few promotional type videos. Like advertisements, but in our style.”

“_Our_ style,” Kurapika repeated, slowly.

Killua grimaced. “Yeah. And I was thinking that… with this deal, I mean, I don’t get a _huge_ cut by any means, but I could compensate you in some way? Maybe after I make my deposit?”

“Seeing your ass is compensation enough,” Kurapika muttered, scowling at something in the distance. Killua turned around to look but saw nothing. Kurapika sighed, and it prompted Killua to look at him again. “Fine. Yeah, I can film it for you. What time?”

They agreed on a time, and with that decided, they filmed the strip tease video series for Instagram, and several more for HUNter. The same exact strip tease video that Gon Freecss watched every second of that didn’t require a subscription. 

And then, Gon watched every second of Killua Zoldyck’s video game series over the course of Sunday in between meals, working out, practice, and that quick bit of panic he had whenever he saw someone with bleach-blonde hair on the sidewalk. It was never Killua, though. 

There wasn’t much in terms of content on Killua’s social media, but it still took a day to fully process it all. The video game series made it abundantly obvious that _yes_, he was dealing with _thee_ Zoldyck, the one who terrorized the football team for nearly three months. He wondered how many of his teammates knew—knew that Killua was getting sponsorships from lingerie brands. His mind swirled around the deep, vibrant colors of the artistic videos that panned over the smooth texture of Killua’s skin, the goosebumps rising on his arms, and the way Killua’s fingers explored sensitive patches of skin with delicate, hovering touches. 

Gon chewed on his lip as he walked to class that day in the cold November air. The air was dry and crisp and stale with city smells. He could barely keep his mind on track without it derailing straight into the KillerQueen HUNter page. It was for this reason that, when he stepped into Greek History that day, he saw Killua on the face of one of his peers.

Near the far back of the room.

Pulling the hood up on his sweatshirt. 

Gon froze at the very front of the room. Students filed in behind him, and he stepped out of the way, entirely distracted by the person in the far back of the room. Maybe his eyes were just decieving him. He _had_ spent the past two days seeing Killua on every white-haired individual on campus (of which there were quite a few). Gon rubbed his eyes and looked up. 

_It definitely looks like him_, Gon thought, and went up to investigate. 

Gon jogged up the steps to the very back of the class. His teammate wasn't around yet—he tended to show up last minute—so Gon took his merry time _staring_ at the student at the back of the class. He paused several steps down, but it was just enough for the guy to look up from his phone, turn, and see Gon staring at him. 

_That's definitely Killua_, Gon thought, only to think again, _Shit! He caught me staring_.

Killua put his hands out and summoned all of his annoyance when he said, “Literally what do you want.”

“N-Nothing."

"You're staring at me, dipshit."

Gon put a hand to his head and sighed. He looked down at the front—his teammate wasn't there yet—so he hurried up to Killua’s empty row, slid in, took a seat, and asked, “You’re KillerQueen, aren’t you?”

He watched the tension in Killua’s neck when his jaw clenched. He glared at Gon, shifting uncomfortably, and reached into his jacket pocket for a slender black tube that he brandished in front of Gon and said, “I have mace.”

Gon scrambled out of his seat and put his hands up in surrender, heart throbbing in his throat. “I-I’m not—!”

“I don’t give a shit. Don’t talk to me,” Killua seethed. “You’re on the football team, aren’t you? Back the fuck up.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Gon squeaked, but he took a step back anyway.

Killua lowered the mace with a groan. He rolled his eyes to the side and pocketed the mace, huffing as he went. A student wandered into the row in front of them, saw that something was going down, and moved one row ahead whilst eyeing Gon suspiciously. 

Killua gestured to the seat beside him, so Gon took it. All of his attention was on Killua, they guy who gave him a bisexual scare for the past month. Up close, Gon could see that every observation he made of Killua was completely correct. The guy had perfect, soft skin and eerily blue eyes that were entirely too pretty for a guy to have. 

Killua pursed his lips, a grimace wrinkling his nose as he glared at Gon. Gon winced and whispered, “Sorry.”

“Why the fuck are you apologizing?” 

“I dunno. It just seemed appropriate.”

Killua sighed and said, “Right, well, don’t go telling the entire team about this, alright? If they find out, they find out. I just don’t want it to become a ‘_thing_’, or whatever.”

The idea of the team finding out about Killua’s HUNter gig was enough to silence Gon. He felt the acidic rage that boiled in his chest whenever he saw Killua with the team before then, before Killua ditched Yorknew football for HUNter. Selfishly, he wanted Killua’s videos for himself. He wanted to experience them on his own and not worry about others talking about it in the locker room before practice, before a game. 

He shuddered, fists clenched on the armrests. “I won't tell them.”

“Good—”

“But I want to know why you never—” Gon started, the words dying in his throat when Killua looked at him like _that_. With contempt. He swallowed hard and whispered, “Why didn’t you ever have sex with _me_? The rest of the team—”

“Listen, I’m gonna stop you right there," Killua said, waving a dismissive hand. “Football players are boring. All they know how to do is top missionairy style and doggy style. I’m done with that shit.”

Gon hadn't thought about it much, but now that Killua was complaining about it, Gon thought to himself, _What else is there?_

“But I’m not—”

“Surprise: I don’t give a shit,” Killua said. He gestured vaguely ahead of him and said, “Beg some more. Preferrably on your knees.”

Gon wondered if he was being serious. It sort of sounded like he meant it, and Gon wasn’t sure _what_ he wanted until Killua told him he didn’t give a shit. He _wanted_ Killua to give a shit—not necessarily about him, but about sex _with _him. It was a lot to hope for, for Gon to be perfect at sex right from the get-go, but he was nothing if not persistent. 

So he got on his knees in front of Killua at the back of the Greek History lecture hall. Gon faced him and watched with a smile when Killua’s pale cheeks turned pink.

Killua kicked him in the thigh and said, frantic and under his breath, “S-Stop that! I don't want to talk to you.”

Gon was beside himself. There he was, face-to-face with the guy who constructed flawless pornography on the internet, and he couldn’t even hold a conversation for more than five seconds before Killua was shutting him down. The very least he could do was hold the conversation a little while longer in hopes of salvaging a chance.

“Wait—waitwaitwait,” Gon said as he stood and Killua shoved his boot into Gon’s thigh, pushing him away. Gon staggered, hands raised in surrender, and said, “I’m not a creep, I swear.”

“You’ve got a lot going for yourself, huh, bub?” Killua sneered, a grimace on his face. 

Gon huffed. “I just—I want to know more about you.”

Killua peeled his boot off of Gon’s thigh. Gon relaxed, only to jolt when Killua slammed his foot into the seat in front of them like he was crushing Gon’s will to live. Killua crossed his arms, licked his teeth, and said, “What, like what color _underwear_ I’m wearing?”

Gon’s ears went red. He felt his blood pumping through his skull as he said, “N-No! I mean, yes—I mean, anything really I don’t really—_AYE!_”

Killua slammed his foot down on top of Gon’s. A sharp, stab of pain went up his leg as he limped back, holding back a grimace. He kept at it, though. 

“Let me take you out to dinner,” Gon said. 

“What is this, the fifties?” Killua said. “Exclusively Netflix and chill, dude.”

“But food is so much better than that!”

“True, but talking to you isn’t.”

“Just once! And if you hate me afterwards, fine—”

“I said _no_, asshat. Ever heard of consent?” Killua snapped, and that shut Gon up. 

He hesitated, all of his desperate words knotting up in the back of his throat. Killua looked up at him, a pompous look on his face as if to say, _Checkmate, bitch_. Gon bit his bottom lip before clicking his tongue, glancing at the front of the room, and then at the floor, as he said, “Sorry. That was out of line.”

“Yeah, it was,” Killua agreed, and pulled his phone out. He put it up to his face and started tapping away at it while Gon stood there stupidly before he realized that their conversation was over, and he really should be getting back to the front of the room.

When Gon returned to his regular row, his teammate was already there, staring at him, an arm hooked over the back of the seat. His jaw was in his lap. Gon glowered at his friend, who kept glancing back at Killua Zoldyck, and back again to Gon. Gon shook his head as he slid into the row and said, “Not a _word_, Knuckle.”

“You have _got_ to be kidding me,” Knuckle hissed, punching Gon in the arm. Gon slumped into his seat with a groan, closing his eyes and looking away. It was too late to take back that godawful conversation he had with Killua. “_Zoldyck?_ Really?”

“Knuckle…”

“Here’s an idea: Stay the fuck away from that guy,” Knuckle said, and when Gon glared at him, Knuckle gave him a dazzling smiling. “I know. I always give the best advice, huh? For one, the guy’s ripped out more hearts than I can count. And second of all, _you’ve never dated, dude_. He’ll rip your pure, virgin heart to pieces!”

Gon covered his face when someone in front of them turned around to look at them. The professor was at the front of the room now and took that moment to clap his hands and get the class started for the day. Gon slumped in his seat and glanced over at Knuckle, who was still staring at him with a look on his face that had, “_Dude, seriously?!_” written all over it. 

_Don't go telling the entire team about this_, Killua had said. 

Gon scowled at Knuckle. The guy was one of Gon’s very first friends on the team (aside from Meruem, who really… _couldn't_ be considered a friend) and had the build of a goddamn ox. He tended to sit with both elbows on the armrests, so Gon put his shoulder right up to Knuckle’s as he leant over and said, “You and everyone else from the frat got to sleep with him. I wanna know what the big deal is."

“Bro, you don’t deserve my sloppy seconds,” Knuckle whispered, arms crossed and head tipped towards Gon. Gon frowned, pouted, and gave Knuckle his best puppy eyes. Knuckle gave him a serious, straight-faced look and said, “I’m not fucking with you, dude. I can and _will_ strap you to the goal post if you try for that maneater back there.”

Gon frowned again because he knew Knuckle was fully capable of doing such things. He had in the past, and he’d do it again. Gon never rushed for the football team’s fraternity, but somehow, he _had_ wound up in one of the initiation ceremonies that involved newbie fraternity members being strapped to the goal posts overnight. Knuckle had thrown Gon over his shoulder like a sack of flour and Gon found it lowkey kind of hot. 

Gon slapped his hands to his cheeks and shook the thoughts right out of his head. _No_. Enough of that malarkey! He wasn’t here to be stopped by Knuckle, nor was he at the next frat party spending all of his time guarding the front door waiting for Killua to show. All the while, Knuckle was there, squinting at Gon from afar as Gon put his solo cup to his lips and scowled at the doorway and every person who came in. The girls all gave him a wide birth as Gon pursed his lips and watched as the guys at the table stamped the hands of the next group coming in.

Knuckle peered over the ledge that divided the foyer from the living room at the next platform. He stood over everyone there and therefore, had a perfect view of Gon very clearly waiting for someone.

Slowly but surely, Knuckle made his way across the first floor of the house, around the kitchen, and through the archway to where Gon was positioned at the stairs. There, Knuckle spun into place beside him, arms crossed, as Gon polished off his drink. 

“Please tell me you aren't waiting for Zoldyck,” Knuckle said.

“I’m waiting for Zoldyck,” Gon said, and Knuckle groaned. “I _have_ to! I have to avenge my honor! If only you knew how terribly our first conversation went. Our _first conversation!_ That's where all the impressions are made!” He threw his arms up and groaned.

“Yeah, well, if that's true then everybody who's come into the party so far has had a bad impression of you. Your negative energy is _potent_ in here, dude,” Knuckle said, gesturing to the room. 

Gon blinked and turned to Knuckle, only to follow the sweep of his arms and realize that yes, Gon _had_ become more of a guard dog than anything, standing there alone and scowling the entire night. His forehead kind of hurt. He rubbed a hand over the wrinkles.

He slapped his hand down against his leg and said, “How can he just _stop_ coming to our parties? He attended every single one until this month.”

“He’s probably found a new conquest,” Knuckle said. Gon looked sharply to him. _No,_ Gon thought, _football players are his type. _I’m_ his type_. Knuckle leant in close, a smile on his face as he said, “_The lacrosse team_."

“Oh, fuck off!” Gon cried, shoving Knuckle away. 

Knuckle threw his head back and laughed. Just as he did, in that very same moment, a certain blonde gentlemen snuck a peek through the entryway and scanned the crowd. 

Kurapika narrowed his eyes on Knuckle Bine, who Killua had said sat with the guy in quesiton. There was a black-haired kid with him, and so Kurapika leant back out of view and turned to the side where Killua stood against the side of the house, hood up, and arms crossed against the brisk wind. 

“Bine's there with some guy—”

"How tall is he."

“Like, around Bine's shoulders — ”

“Does his hair kinda stick straight up?” Killua gestured vaguely over his head to about the height of that football player’s hair.

“Yeah—”

“Kinda latino looking?” Killua asked, and Kurapika peered back inside to see. “Can you hear him talking? He’s got a bit of an accent—”

“Definitely latino.”

“Shit. There’s, like, five Mexicans on the football team. This doesn’t help.”

“Tell ya what—I’ll just take a picture and you can decide if this is the guy you hired me to kill,” Kurapika said, lifting his phone up. Killua waited, tense and impatient, for Kurapika to _get a move on_. 

Shortly after sneaking his phone out into the doorway, one of the frat guys at the table shooed Kurapika off, saying, “Oi, you coming in or what?”

“I came to see the spectacle, you know,” Kurapika said, dramatically, half-on the stoop half-off. “I just love coming to the zoo, you see.”

The frat guy flipped Kurapika off and some girls nearby giggled. Kurapika pointed to one such girl and said, “See? Leopard print and all.”

“Dude,” Killua huffed. 

Kurapika flicked a dismissive hand and passed his phone to Killua. Killua snatched it and squinted at the blurry, zoomed in picture. It was definitely the guy who talked to him before Greek History, and was definitely a guy he’d see again despite having skipped all of the Greek History lectures that week. Killua couldn’t afford to fail a class, so he’d have to go back to Greek History one of these days.

“You and I both know someone was gonna find out,” Kurapika said. 

“Yeah, but a _football guy?_” Killua said, groaning. He put a hand to his throbbing temple and handed the phone back. “God, I don’t even know his _name_. He must be a freshmen.”

“Great, someone who’s actually _your age_,” Kurapika said with a raised eyebrow. Killua gave him a sarcastic smile. “I get that you’re looking for experience, but I gotta say, seniors are _not_ the way to go. They're all creeps for fucking freshmen.”

“Half of ‘em weren’t even seniors,” Killua said with a huff. “Ikalgo isn’t. And neither is Meruem, so suck it.”

Together, they leant against the side of the frat house and studied the photo. Killua zoomed in a bit and rotated the image. They both tipped their heads to the side. 

“He’s kinda hot,” Kurapika said.

Killua stayed quiet. Kurapika looked at him. 

With a huff, Killua said, “That isn’t me agreeing with you. Hot or not, he’s a threat. We need to kill him.”

“_Or_,” Kurapika said, raising one, single finger. Killua glared at it. “We keep him quiet.”

“How.”

“He’s a football player, right? So he’s competitive. What’s one thing you can beat him in?”

Killua shrugged. “I dunno. Sex?”

Kurapika flicked him in the head. Killua winced and rubbed at his hair as Kurapika said, “No, you blundering, immaculate asshole. _Dancing_. Challenge him to a dance-off and the condition is that if you win, he never talks to you or about you ever again.”

Killua liked the idea of that. He, too, was competitive at heart and couldn't deny the ego-boost he got from dancing in a frat. It was telling as well, how a guy danced. So many dudes at frat parties didn't understand the first thing about dancing without grinding, and those that _could_ dance without grinding were significantly better at sex—from Killua's experience. Ikalgo was a good dancer, and as was Meruem—when Killua could manage to convince that rat bastard to shake his ass.

“Yeah, okay,” Killua agreed, biting his lip. He glanced at the line waiting for entry and pushed off of the wall. He straightened his jacket and sighed. 

Football players were boring, yes, but even if they only knew two sex positions, they were damn good at it. This freak was a freshmen, though. Freshmen only knew how to hump two pumps and call it a day. God, Killua _really_ wasn’t in the mood for a charity sex case, especially now that his income depended on the state of his asshole and dick. The last thing he wanted was an inexperienced asswipe to tear his anus or break his dick. 

But Killua was _damn_ good at dancing. He’d win this competition—_easy_.

“Okay. Let’s go,” Killua said, and slipped the line up the stoop steps and through the front door with Kurapika at his heels. He strolled over the foyer and approached the table where one of the frat guys startled at his entrance, especially when he slammed his hand on the table and said, “Stamp me.”

The guy whistled low. Killua remembered him from the back of the bleachers. He narrowed his eyes at the guy as he said, “Back for more, huh?”

“I’m not here for your _bullshit_. I don’t even remember your name,” Killua said. 

The guy frowned and, dejectedly, stamped Killua’s hand. He gestured back to Kurapika and said, “My friend too.”

Kurapika stuck his hand out like he was being proposed to and the guy gave him a nasty scowl and stamped his hand. Killua grabbed Kurapika by his freshly-inked hand and dragged him past the foyer, only to stop at the sight of his target completely slung over the shoulder of that third-year linebacker, Knuckle Bine.

Knuckle turned to the side and stopped at the sight of Killua and Kurapika there staring at him. And then, that idiot freshmen tipped his head to the side, all red in the face from being upside-down, and stared wide-eyed at Killua.

Killua swallowed hard, cleared his throat, and passed them on his way to the kitchen. “I need a drink,” he said, feeling dizzy. Behind him, he heard that freshmen shout, “Wait! Killua—_AH!_ _Shit!_” just before a massive _thud_ reverberated on the floor. Killua jumped, startled, and turned back to find the freshmen on the ground and Bine with his arms out, having failed to catch him. Knuckle threw his hands up in surrender.

“Zoldyck—What’re you doing here?” Knuckle said, alarmed, and Killua bristled. He hated being questioned, especially by the guys he screwed. 

He bundled his fists up at his sides, and Knuckle dropped his hands and put them behind his back, feigning innocence in the face of Killua’s raw, unadulterated fury. Killua clenched his teeth and turned on his heels. He made his getaway to the basement stairs and hurried down into the pulsing music with Kurapika at his side. 

Killua swung down, a hand on the railing, and spun around. He slowed at the edge of the crowd by the bar and there, he slung an arm around Kurapika’s shoulders as Kurapika said, “He’s already following us, you know.”

Killua pictured the freshmen crawling on his knees. “That’s the fucking plan,” Killua said with a grin.

It wasn’t until Killua got his drink that the idiot freshmen ever showed up. Killua caught sight of him flying down the back stairs and overshooting the dancefloor archway. He skidded back into view, staggering, and clutching at the frame. After swinging in and flattening his back to the wall, Killua watched Knuckle Bine fly into the room after him, only to still when he couldn't find the freshmen among the dancers, or even where Killua watched with a cheeky grin. Killua raised a hand like some grandma waving farewell from her porch. 

Knuckle flipped him off and turned back to the hallway. Once gone, the freshmen let out a breath of relief under the red and blue stage lights flashing and twirling across the room. Killua glanced at Kurapika, laughing, and Kurapika rolled his eyes. 

Killua put his cup to his lips and pretended he wasn’t secretly watching the freshmen maneuver through the throng of dancers on his way to the bar where Killua and Kurapika were. 

“You’re here!” the guy said, shocked. 

“You're kidding,” Killua deadpanned. 

“Wow, I can't believe we’re here,” Kurapika said, and Killua could have cried laughing if they weren't faced with the guy who essentially asked Killua for sex in the middle of a lecture hall.

The guy only then seemed to realize that Killua wasn't alone. He put a hand out and said, “Gon.”

“Pikachu,” Kurapika said with a fake smile. 

_Gon_, Killua repeated in his head, certain that he'd forget it in the next minute or so. He cleared his throat to talk over the speakers, saying, “Here's the deal, _Gon_: I’ll give you my number _if_ you can beat me in a dance-off. If not, you can’t talk about me or to me ever again.”

In that instance, Gon only heard “_I’ll give you my number_” and jumped the gun. “Deal,” he said. And, as Killua chugged the rest of his drink and shed his jacket, Gon’s brain caught up to the rest of what Killua had shouted over the music.

_Shit_, he thought, because Killua was a fantastic dancer. Sure, nothing could beat his Mexican roots—he spent his summers dancing every damn day of the week around menial tasks at his family’s ranch—but Killua had a way with his hips that capitvated Gon long before Killua had captured his best friend Knuckle as a conquest. Everytime Gon caught Killua dancing with other guys, he made grinding look like public sex and Gon couldn’t stop _staring_ and _wondering_ how Killua’s dance partners didn’t have boners. 

But he _needed_ to win this dance-off. He couldn’t twerk, much less _dance _to hiphop in general. He needed something that was his _style_. That he was _used to_. 

Killua slammed his solo cup down. 

Gon put out his hands and said, “Wait—can we dance separately? To different songs?” 

Killua startled, eyes wide. He stepped back from where Gon’s hands had gotten _dangerously_ close to his chest and looked back at Kurapika. Kurapika looked up from his phone and shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”

“Cool,” Gon said, dropping his hands. He smiled at Killua and gestured for him to go first. 

Killua huffed and stomped forward. He didn’t like the idea of this freshmen interjecting ideas into the competition—it just meant that Gon was _into it_. Maybe dancing was the wrong choice of subject, but it was too late to take it back. And Killua only agreed to giving the guy his number.

What could go wrong?

Killua ran his thumb along his bottom lip as he started for the DJ stand. He glanced back and found Gon trailing after him, clad in those black skinny jeans, white tshirt, and green flannel. Killua grimaced at the dirty thoughts that went through his brain. Grabbing Gon by the loose ends of his flannel. Ripping the flannel from his shoulders and tugging him forward with his fingers hooked on those skinny jean belt loops. And _damn_, the neon lights were a masterpiece on that olive complexion.

He couldn’t fuck around again. He wouldn't let himself. 

So he went up to the DJ and requested his favorite song to dance to and made it a priority for the sake of this dance-off. He gestured to Gon, and then to the DJ—the speakers were too loud to even talk, so Gon went up there and typed in his song rec to the DJ on his phone and held it out. The DJ squinted at it, rose an eyebrow, and looked at Killua. Killua summoned his most lethal scowl, and their songs were secured in the queue. 

Killua could feel the alcohol making his brain swim in his skull. Maybe he shouldn’t have gone for tequilla that day, but fuck it, he was up against a sexy latino. 

And then, all that was left to do was wait for the current song to wrap up. Killua crossed his arms and sighed as Gon stood beside him, hands clasped behind his back. Meanwhile, Kurapika hung back, phone poised and ready to record the shitshow that was bound to transpire. 

When Killua's song came on, Gon’s heart was pounding harder in his chest than it ever had before. He put a hand to his heart and held it still, fingers clenching in the fabric of his tshirt as Killua pushed off of the wall and siddled into the crowd, near the edge where Gon and Kurapika could watch as Killua passed both hands over his hair and dragged them down nice and slow to rise of the tempo.

He crossed his hands back and down and rolled his heels to the side, spreading his knees and dropping low. The synchrony of it was enough to catch the attention of dancers on the floor, who turned to stare in amazement as Killua rocked back and forth on his heels, arms crossing, elbows pumping to the beat. He bit his lip like he _knew_ Gon was watching and waiting for the calm attitude to fade into deep concentration, his expression adding _everything_ to the moves that rocked with his hips.

Killua snapped his hand to the side and swung his other arm back and forth in a slow, easing roll like he was playing the bow of a violin. His feet popped when he hit each peak and pivoted, slowly rolling back into the crowd as whoops and hollers went around.

From the cheeky grin on Killua’s face, Gon wondered if the guy expected Gon to roll over and give up after this. He might have, had he not become so enamored by the thought of Killua over the weeks. But now? Now he was more than desperate to win. He was determined. 

Gon peeled his eyes away from Killua and set to work. While Gon canvased the crowd for a dance partner, Killua worked his magic and cleared a circle around him where onlookers came to watch him strut his stuff. He had an encore in full swing by the time the song wrapped up halfway through and Killua clapped his hands over his head with a laugh, chest tight from “warming up” with a fullblown choreographed hiphop ensemble. 

He stepped back into the ring of people, who clapped their hands on his shoulders and shook him, held him, and _touched him_ all over. He broke away as soon as he could, shuddering a little, and went to where Kurapika was gathered with everyone else, phone in hand. 

“Where’s that little shithead,” Killua said, wrapping an arm around Kurapika.

Kurapika plucked his arm right off. “Get your sweaty body away from me. And he’s over there.”

Killua turned to look as Gon broke away from the ring, his arm stretched back. It wasn’t until a second person came forward that Killua realized that Gon was _holding their hand_ with every intention of dancing with them. 

“Is that against the rules?” Killua asked, eyes wide. 

“It’s entertaining, so no,” Kurapika said.

A familiar piano riff played on the speakers, and some people _oo_’ed to it and clapped their hands. Killua was too focused on Gon and his partner to bother registering the song title. He heard it a million times before, but not to the tune of this idiot freshmen dazzling his partner with a stupid little jiv that rolled his shoulders back with each _pop_ of the piano chords. He swayed to and fro on nimble feet before bringing them together with a snap, hands out, and his partner raised their hands with a laugh and clasped on.

“Holy shit,” Kurapika said with a low, amused laugh, phone recording everything because _that idiot was salsa dancing _at a _frat party_.

And holy shit, did he know how to salsa or _what?_

Every back and forth motion sent Gon’s narrow hips swinging, his feet light on the floor, and his hands hovering and singing through the air with every turn and spin they took. He twirled his partner back and forth with the ease of a seasoned lead, a bright smile on his face as he crossed their arms together and lowered them, a hand settling behind his partner’s back, and the other holding fast to their hand as they swayed together. 

Killua tipped his head to the side, his eyes on _that ass_ in those skinny black jeans.

And to top it off, Gon's partner looked like he was having the time of his gay life. 

Killua scoffed, arms crossed, and looked away as more people swooped in to take a gander. A new group of students came barreling down the steps and streamed past Killua and Kurapika. Killua met Kurapika's eyes, and Kurapika pursed his lips. 

He pointed to Gon through the crowd and said, “He wins.”

> 2:34 **UNKNOWN:** Hey! This is Gon Freecss
> 
> 2:34 **UNKNOWN:** From the party  ☺️
> 
> 2:35 **UNKNOWN:** And from Greek History  😄
> 
> 2:40 **KILLUA:** You got a death wish, Freecss? Or are you just drunk
> 
> 2:41 **GON:** Both  😄
> 
> 2:43 **GON:** I wanna take you out
> 
> 2:45 **KILLUA:** With a knife or…?
> 
> 2:45 **GON:** To dinner
> 
> 2:46 **KILLUA:** Yikes buddy I don’t date
> 
> 2:46 **GON:** It doesn’t have to be a date!
> 
> 2:46 **GON:** Friends go out to eat together all the time
> 
> 2:47 **KILLUA:** Hate to break it to you but
> 
> 2:47 **KILLUA:** We aren’t even friends dude
> 
> 2:48 **GON:** Okay then consider this a Friends Date
> 
> 2:48 **GON:** We get to know each other and also eat food and since this is our first Friends Date, afterwards we can decide if we want to keep being friends or call it quits there
> 
> 2:49 **GON:** Like a regular date :D But just as friends
> 
> 2:50 **KILLUA:** It’s too early in the morning for me to decide this
> 
> 2:50 **GON:** Text me when you get 8 hours of sleep and have eaten breakfast
> 
> 2:50 **KILLUA:** k
> 
> 2:51 **GON:** Did you make it back to your place okay?
> 
> 2:51 **KILLUA:** Yeah but some weird guy kept talking to me the entire time
> 
> 2:51 **GON:** I coulda walked you home  😩
> 
> 2:51 **KILLUA:** I’m literally talking about you
> 
> 2:52 **GON:** oh  😳🤭

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I THOUGHT THIS WAS 5K AND THAT THE WHOLE ONESHOT WAS GONNA BE 10K, BUT THIS CHAPTER IS 10.7K SO HERE YOU GO


	22. KillerQueen — Pt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gon and Killua's date is here. 
> 
> TAGS: First Time, First Kiss, Salsa Dancing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: I made one silly change as per the Discord server's request. If you already read the chapter and decide to reread it, you WILL know.

** T**he following day, Killua posted a new video on his KillerQueen account that Gon had set his notifications for. He knew the exact time Killua posted it and figured the guy had woken up early to upload it. Against Gon’s better judgement (because friends didn’t watch each others’ porn, as far as he knew) he opened the link and watched the one minute that was available to him without having to subscribe. He sighed as it drew to a close, just as shit was getting good. Killua left the _actual_ sexual material after the one minute mark when unsubscribed viewers were effectively cockblocked. 

At this point, Gon knew _far_ too much about Killua’s inner thigh to just _give up_. Friends? Who was he trying to kid. This was a goddamn _date_. He would pull _no_ punches. As soon as a date was set, he started planning his outfit, and when the day arrived, Gon spent the morning before Greek History canvasing New York City for a flower shop, which wound up in the depths of the subway selling roses for some obscene price Gon was willing to pay for the sake of _r o m a n c e_.

Gon walked through campus carrying a light, but luscious bouquet of five roses framed with fluffy ferns and cute white flowers. At the history building, he paused, checked his hair, and let out a short, relieved breath. This was it. The day he had been waiting for. 

He made his way to the lecture hall where, upon entry, he spied Killua up at the very top of the lecture hall steps, his hood up, and his phone in hand. He had one foot propped up on the seat in front of him and seemed too absorbed in his phone to notice when Gon approached his row. He didn’t look until Gon took a seat beside him and held out the flowers. 

“Holy—” Killua started, phone slipping from his fingers. It slapped right into his lap. He grimaced and took the flowers, voice hoarse. “Thank… you?”

Gon smiled at him with one of those perfect, charming smiles that deserved to be in a magazine. Killua swallowed hard and looked down at the flowers. He picked at the tissue paper and said, “I don't know what the fuck to do with this.”

“That’s okay,” Gon said with a light laugh. “I never know what to do with them.”

Killua’s nose wrinkled up. “You say that like you’ve gotten flowers before.”

The guy snorted and said, “Yeah, from my _mom_. Every damn game in high school.”

Killua scoffed a little, lips pursed and eyes on the red roses. He had never _gotten_ red roses before, and it felt _weird_. The paper crinkled when he moved it, and the petals were soft between the pads of his fingers. He rubbed them gently throughout the course of lecture, his attention span thinning by the minute. His brain was scattered between his finances crumbling around him, the next video that would keep him afloat, and the fact that he was spending an ungodly amount of money to even _be_ at Yorknew. He was supposed to be paying attention, dammit! Every damn lecture seemed to amount to fifty bucks lost from his pocket. 

He couldn’t be distracted by the idiot freshmen sitting next to him taking notes. He couldn’t be.

But there he was, his fingers running over the flower petals like he _didn’t_ have notes to take.

_I’ve never gotten roses before_, he thought, thinking again about how, out of all of the football players he slept with, a player he _hadn’t_ slept with started shit off by A) bringing up his career and B) getting him _flowers_.

He wasn’t sure which was worse.

Killua sighed and put the flowers on the ground beneath his seat. He had to focus now, and focus he did until precisely eleven o’ clock when lecture wrapped up and their “date” officially began. 

He rose to his feet and stretched his arms over his head. Students were packing up around them and far down the rows, he caught sight of Bine in the third row, looking back at them and _glaring_. Killua cleared his throat and said, “What’s with you and Bine?”

“Hm?” Killua turned back around and caught the damn freshmen looking up from where his eyes had honed in on Killua’s ass. “Oh! Knuckle, yeah, we’re friends. He sees me as a little brother or something.”

Killua rolled his eyes away and back to Bine. He put up his middle finger and Bine stuck his tongue out before aggressively swiping his backpack off of the ground and marching away. Killua dropped his arms back to his sides. Now, he had an idiot to deal with. 

Hands slipping into his pockets, Killua turned to look at Gon who was standing there waiting like some goddamn puppy. “Listen, dude,” Killua started, eyes dropping to his feet. “I don’t… I know this is, like, an Actual Date for you, but I just don’t want to date anyone who knows about what I do for a living.”

Gon’s expression fell, but rebounded just as fast. “That’s okay. It’s your job, I understand that. If you change your mind, I’m not gonna interfere with it, if that's what you mean.”

“Don’t hold your breath on that,” Killua huffed, shoulders tense. He reached down for his bag and hesitated at the flowers under his seat. He picked them up. “Let’s fucking go, dude.”

Before they could get terribly far from the stairs, they turned the corner and Gon startled at the sight of Knuckle reclined against the wall, arms crossed, looking _furiously_ at them both. Gon couldn't tell who he was more pissed at, but the guilty part of Gon (which populated approximately 90% of Gon's compact body) knew that it was _he_ who was at fault. 

He just didn’t expect Knuckle to wait for them.

“Gon, can I speak with you for a moment?” Knuckle said, pushing off of the wall. 

Meanwhile, Killua looked at the two of them and soured at the familiar look Gon gave Knuckle as he said, “Alright,” before turning to Killua. He didn’t know Gon well enough to estimate the outcome of the chat, but he knew where he had seen this exchange before. “I’ll be right back. I’ll meet you near the exit?”

“Yeah, sure,” Killua said, flowers at his side. 

Gon gave him one of those dazzlingly brilliant smiles before turning and following Bine out of the lecture hall. Killua wasn’t at all surprised when, five minutes from then, Knuckle texted him. He also wasn't surprised to hear later that Knuckle had thrown Gon over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes and shoved him into the back of an Uber.

Gon screamed as he bounced off of the back seat and had his legs immediately crushed under the weight of Knuckle’s ass. He shoved himself against Knuckle, scrambling up to put his shoulder into it, but Knuckle was a beast of a linebacker. 

Knuckle slammed the back door as the Uber driver gave them a concerned look in the rearview mirror. “Alright, let’s go,” Knuckle said.

“_No_—I have a _date_ to go on,” Gon insisted, grunting with the effort to yank his feet out from under Knuckle’s asscheeks. He flung himself back to open up the opposite door, but Knuckle flew over him and bellyflopped on his shoulder. The breath was knocked out of him in an instant.

“You are _not_ going on a _date_ with Zoldyck,” Knuckle hissed, his hand clasped to Gon’s wrist. He pushed it down, little by little, as Gon’s arm shook with the strain of reaching out for the door handle. “You’ll get an _STD!_ Or _worse!_”

“No I won’t!” Gon yelped, his breath whistling out of him. He gasped, panting as the car lurched forward and into traffic. “And—What’s worse than an STD anyway!”

“Heartbreak!” Knuckle roared.

They wrestled in the back of the car like two horny teenagers at a drive-in movie theatre where everyone thought that the reason the car was shaking was because they were fucking, but really, they were just punching each other repeatedly in the guts hoping for the other to scream uncle. Meanwhile, the Uber driver looked like he was two seconds away from kicking them out of the car, and Gon wouldn't have argued. He probably would have thanked the guy for kicking them out because maybe _then_ he'd have a chance to run back in time for his date with Killua.

The instant they were in front of frat row and the team house, Knuckle pulled himself up, fixed his hair, and let out a huff. “Okay, we survived. Let’s get the fuck out,” he said, and opened up the door. He thanked the driver before stepping out and grabbing Gon by the ankle.

Gon yelped and kicked at Knuckle’s kneecap. He crawled out onto the sidewalk with a curse, his knee skidding on the curb. He got up and, the instant Knuckle turned to shut the door, he took off at a sprint in the direction of campus.

“Gon! Don’t you fucking dare!” Knuckle screamed, the car door slamming and footsteps racing after him.

Gon pushed harder. There was a goddamn reason he was the running back for Yorknew University, and it had everything to do with the fact that he was twice as fast as any of the linebackers on the team. He knew this and Knuckle knew this, which was why Knuckle gave up as soon as Gon turned the corner and vanished from sight.

But by the time Gon ran the mile back to the history building, Knuckle had already texted Killua. He came skidding into the lecture hall cooridor, out of breath and sagging with his backpack in hand. 

And the hall was empty.

Gon dropped his backpack along the wall and slumped after it. He slid to his bum and put his knees up, wrists reclinging on his knees. With one last huff, he slapped his hands on his thighs and wished he could punch Knuckle again for sabotaging his date. How was _he_ supposed to know that Knuckle would assault him the second they stepped out of the lecture hall? and then forcibly drag him to an Uber?

> 12:02 **GON:** I’m so sorry Knuckle kidnapped me
> 
> 12:02 **GON:** We could still go out if you want?
> 
> 12:04 **KILLUA:** I think I’ll pass
> 
> 12:04 **KILLUA:** It's very clearly a romantic date to you
> 
> 12:04 **GON:** I’m sorry  😖
> 
> 12:05 **GON:** I just want to treat you right
> 
> 12:05 **KILLUA:** Sounds like something a fuckboy would say
> 
> 12:05 **KILLUA:** And I should know cuz I’ve used that one before  🍆😮
> 
> 12:06** GON:** I’m not a fuckboy I swear  😣
> 
> 12:06 **KILLUA:** Oh yeah? prove it
> 
> 12:06 **GON:** I’ve never even had sex before
> 
> 12:15 **KILLUA:** Damn
> 
> 12:15 **KILLUA:** You did not need to go that hard
> 
> 12:15 **GON:** It’s not that weird
> 
> 12:15 **KILLUA:** It’s a little weird
> 
> 12:16 **GON: ** 🥺
> 
> 12:16 **KILLUA:** You’re a football player for christs sake
> 
> 12:16 **GON:** I just don’t like sleeping around like the other guys
> 
> 12:17 **KILLUA:** Read: “I’m not like other guys”
> 
> 12:17 **GON:** I’M NOT
> 
> 12:17 **GON:** And I’m not looking for sex with you either
> 
> 12:18 **GON:** If… that’s what you’re worried about
> 
> 12:18** KILLUA:** Good
> 
> 12:18** KILLUA:** I don’t fuck with virgins
> 
> 12:19 **GON:** Why??
> 
> 12:19 **KILLUA:** Cuz virgins don’t know how to top
> 
> 12:19 **KILLUA:** Pretty basic
> 
> 12:20 **GON:** Oh
> 
> 12:20 **GON:** What if I didn’t top?
> 
> 12:45 **KILLUA:** Excuse me
> 
> 12:45 **KILLUA:** What did you just say
> 
> 12:45 **GON:** You heard me
> 
> 12:46 **KILLUA:** Yeah, I heard you but did YOU hear you?
> 
> 12:46 **GON:** idk
> 
> 12:46 **GON:** Just show me how it’s done?
> 
> 12:46** GON:** But again: not asking for sex
> 
> 12:47 **GON:** Unless you’re, like, into that
> 
> 12:47 **GON:** With me  🤭
> 
> 13:35 **KILLUA:** Ok I’ve talked to my agent
> 
> 13:35 **GON:** your what
> 
> 13:35 **KILLUA:** My agent
> 
> 13:35 **KILLUA: **Get with the fucking program
> 
> 13:36 **GON:** o okay
> 
> 13:36 **KILLUA:** I’ll fuck you if we can film it
> 
> 13:37 **KILLUA:** Your face won’t be in it
> 
> 13:40 **GON:** Doesn’t… someone have to film us?
> 
> 13:40 **KILLUA:** Yeah my agent
> 
> 13:41 **GON:** Who is your agent??
> 
> 13:41 **KILLUA:** Enough pointless questions
> 
> 13:41 **KILLUA:** This is my one and only offer
> 
> 13:42 **GON:** Okay I’m in
> 
> 13:42 **GON:** BUT 
> 
> 13:42 **GON:** I’m not comfortable with my first time being filmed  😬
> 
> 13:43 **GON:** What if I mess up or something?
> 
> 13:43 **KILLUA: **You’re not gonna mess up
> 
> 13:44 **GON:** Could it be my second time??
> 
> 13:45 **KILLUA:** Jesus christ dude 
> 
> 13:45 **KILLUA:** Is it a yes or no dude??
> 
> 13:45 **GON:** It’s a yes if I can practice once? 
> 
> 13:45 **GON:** I’m a fast learner I promise
> 
> 13:46 **KILLUA:** How fast
> 
> 13:46 **KILLUA:** I can’t work with a two pump chump
> 
> 13:46 **GON:** I don’t
> 
> 13:47 **GON:** I don’t know?
> 
> 13:47 **GON:** I’ve never really tried
> 
> 13:47 **KILLUA:** You’ve never
> 
> 13:48 **KILLUA:** Tried.
> 
> 13:48 **GON:** Yeah
> 
> 13:49 **GON:** I mean I’ve TRIED but it’s never, like, satisfying. It takes too long and I get bored
> 
> 13:50 **KILLUA:** It
> 
> 13:50 **KILLUA: **Takes too long
> 
> 13:50 **KILLUA: **And you get
> 
> 13:50 **KILLUA:** Bored.
> 
> 13:51 **GON:** Yeah
> 
> 13:51 **GON:** How long is it supposed to take?
> 
> 13:52 **KILLUA:** Like 3, 4 minutes max?
> 
> 13:52 **GON:** Weird
> 
> 13:53** KILLUA:** Why is that weird
> 
> 13:53 **GON:** It takes longer than that for me
> 
> 13:53 **KILLUA:** How long
> 
> 13:54 **GON:** Find out yourself
> 
> 13:54 **GON:** 😘
> 
> 13:54 **KILLUA:** For someone who claims to be a virgin, you sure know how to tease a guy
> 
> 13:54 **GON:** Are you intrigued yet
> 
> 13:55 **KILLUA:** You’re gonna have to do better than that
> 
> 13:55 **GON:** I’m 7.5”
> 
> 14:10 **KILLUA:** Hatsu Hall. Room 254

It took five minutes for Gon to get to Hatsu Hall.

He had been to Hatsu once before with one of his teammates, but he never stuck around. Now, he was sneaking in behind a group of freshmen since his student ID card couldn’t get him into the building even if he tried. 

All the while, he felt like someone had set his system to vibrate. Gon only ever felt this sheer level of adrenaline on the playing field, when his emotions got the best of him and he couldn’t help but through all his thoughts and ambitions into it, toiling into a blurry spiral in his skull. He hurried through the lobby and to the stairs where he spiraled up, spinning like he was in some Broadway musical. 

When he spun around the railing, he caught a girl descending with one of her friends. They laughed as Gon’s hand swept past, and she offered her hand back. He gave her a quick spin and steadied her at the cusp of the stairs heading down. She giggled as he said, “Have a nice day!” and she said, “Th-Thank you! You too!”

Gon galloped up the remaining stairs with a spring in his step. He bounded onto the second floor with his heart fluttering in his chest and his eyes set on the door numbers counting from 251, 252, 253…

_254_.

Gon paused at the door to check his hair, his breath, and the straps of his backpack. Before he could even _consider_ knocking, he cleared his throat, straightened his posture, and reminded himself that _this was it_. 

He was one step closer to dating Killua Zoldyck.

He knocked on the door.

A moment later, the lock clicked undone and the handle shifted. Gon stepped back from the door with a nervous, but eager smile on his lips as Killua came into full view through the crack in the door. 

Killua put a hand to the edge of the doorframe and the door itself, his stance lax and leant forward. Gon’s breath caught in his throat at the way Killua’s eyebrow quirked, arched perfectly over his pale blue eyes. And then, Killua’s eyes slipped down, and Gon realized that he had his hands clasped in front of him like he was posing for either A) a family portrait or B) a recreation of the Had To Do It To ‘Em meme.

“Uh, hi,” Gon said, startling them both. His voice cracked. He cleared his throat. “If, um, if I had flowers I'd give them to you now, but you already took them.”

“Oh, shit, you’re right,” Killua said, not moving. After a moment, he looked down and up again and leant his weight towards the doorframe. He gave the door a gentle push and nodded for Gon to enter. He stepped forward as Killua dropped his hand and watched Gon step into the dimly lit room. 

Gon was _very_ much aware that the entrance of Killua's single dorm room was narrow, and that was because his shoulder was butted up against Killua’s as he shut the door behind them and locked it. Gon watched the way the blue LED lights cast an ethereal glow along Killua’s white hair and smooth cheekbones. Killua glanced up at him once before looking down, passing a hand through his hair, and stepping ahead into the room. 

He turned with a sweep of his hands and said, “Welcome to my crib, or whatever.”

Gon hummed appreciatively, though he hadn’t thought to look at it until Killua mentioned that it existed. “It's nice. Super nice, actually. Way better than my dorm.”

Killua’s dorm was circled by blue mood lighting that consolidated around his desk setup. He had a whole-ass PC desktop with a massive monitor and a glowing keyboard and mouse. Gon stepped up to it, mostly because the flowers he got Killua were in the bin next to the desk. He picked them up and held them up with a glance in Killua's direction.

Killua scratched at the back of his head and said, “I, uh… don't have a green thumb.”

Gon laughed and said, “That’s okay. Dried roses are cool, too. But if you leave ‘em standing upright the flower just sort of flops down."

He gently set them over the keyboard. There was a ring light propped up on top of the monitor, and a DSLR camera was mounted off to the side. He caught himself staring at it as he pulled his backpack straps down. 

He caught his breath when Killua's hand came to his arm. He turned, and startled with a little squeak when Killua’s hand cupped his crotch. _No one_ had _ever_ cupped his willy before. 

He took a step back, clutching at the desk chair, and Killua leant closer, squinting at him. "Were you kidding about the seven inches thing?”

“S-Seven and a half,” Gon stammered, swallowing hard. 

Both of Killua's hands went to his zipper. He slapped his own hands over them, catching Killua before he could go too far. He let out a weak, breathy laugh and said, “B-But again, I haven’t done this before so—”

“I just need to know what I’m working with,” Killua said. 

“You’ll know,” Gon promised, and Killua rose an eyebrow. “In a bit.”

“A _bit?_ Dude, you know what I’m into,” he said, and heat pooled in Gon’s cheeks. Killua squeezed his hand and all that heat flooded south. Gon’s mouth fell open with a shuddered gasp. He staggered back, clutching at the edge of the desk as Killua pushed forward, a sneer on his lips as he hissed, “And you _know_ what I’m going to do to you—”

“O-Ok-ay…” Gon panted, a nervous laugh breaking the word apart. He pushed away from the desk hands up and holding onto Killua by the shoulders. He pried them apart and said the first thing that came to mind. “I wanna teach you how to salsa.”

Killua’s hand fell limply from where he had previously held Gon’s dick in his clutches. “Why the fuck—”

“Because it's fun! And I don’t know much about you and you don’t know much about me so bada-bing bada-boom there you have it. We can salsa to anything! What’s your favorite song?”

He scrambled for his phone and nearly ninja-star threw it across the room the second it flew out of his pocket. He caught it between both hands and gave a pointed look at Killua, who was more or less floored by the next step on the itinerary that he clearly hadn’t read because it was in _super_ fine print between Step One: Let Gon Inside and Step Two: Bang. 

Killua tried to slap his phone down, saying, “I'm not _salsa dancing_ with you.”

“But it's romantic!” Gon insisted, and Killua groaned. Gon couldn’t picture a world where he could hook up with a practical stranger without getting to _know_ them and their _body_ beforehand. Considering his internet history, he knew _plenty_ about Killua’s body. 

Gon slapped on his best puppy-dog face and begged with wide, doe eyes, “Please? Just for half a song. Not even the full song.”

He lowered his hands from Killua’s shoulders. Killua followed the motion, peering down at Gon’s outstretched hands, held loosely with their broad palms and flat fingers. His phone was in one hand, showing the time and reminding Killua that it was _barely_ into the evening. 

Killua studied them for a moment, sighing. He always found organized dancing constricting, like waltzing. He didn't want to stick to a box, or even to someone else’s hands, for that matter. 

But Gon's hands _did_ look intriguing…

“Fine,” he said, turning his chin up. He met Gon’s eyes and said, “I'll give you a goddamn song. Alright?”

“Really? Okay, amazing,” Gon said. He took Killua’s hand with one hand and used the other to open up Spotify or some shit. 

Killua gave him the name of the song and, as Gon pulled it up and set his phone aside, he said, “Happy now?”

Gon studied the ceiling as he listened to the initial guitar sequence. He licked his lips, biting back a smile as he looked back down and said, “Yes, very. This is good—I can work with this.”

He relaxed his hands into a simple sway that brought Killua’s shoulders forwards and back to the beat. Light on his feet, he pointed Killua to them and said, “Keep your feet moving—Oh, I should probably take off my shoes.”

He kicked them off to the side and said, “I think salsa music is in 8 counts? But we pause twice. So after every step forward or back, we pause, but we keep our hips moving.”

He slid a hand to Killua’s waist, his thumb curving over Killua’s hipbone through the fabric of his sweatpants. Killua shivered and said, “No promises I’ll be counting.”

“That's okay—I can lead and keep track. After a while you don’t even count. It’s all just natural now,” Gon said, and began to instruct the way Killua conducted his steps, mimicking the sway of Gon’s hips as they danced in circles around the room and Gon sprinkled in random, assorted spins into the mix. 

Killua spun back perfectly in line with Gon’s own hips, the two of them side-by-side. Gon still had his hand in Killua’s, the other resting at his back, as Gon said, “And then we freestyle.” 

“I feel like this entire dance is freestyling,” Killua said, pushing away and circling back into their basic position—one hand on Gon’s shoulder and the other in Gon’s hand. 

Gon smiled and said, “You’re getting the hang of it. Salsa dancing is _amazing_ because it’s freestyling, but every step is, like… you _know_ what the other person’s gonna do. Like when I raise my hand, you automatically know that I’m about to spin you.”

“The idle dance feels like when I gotta go to the bathroom in the middle of lecture.”

Gon threw his head back and laughed. Killua broke into a small, amused grin and went back to studying their feet. He relaxed into the flow of it as Gon spun him around and they circled the room together. They split away to freestyle and while Gon stuck to the salsa rhythm, Killua broke out into Fortnite dance moves that had them both cackling with laughter. 

When they collided again, Killua pulled Gon’s hips to his and rolled them into a slow, circular grind. The look on Gon’s face wasn’t like before—like a deer caught in headlights—so Killua took it as a good sign to move forward. Gon was taller than him and was looking and feeling _fine_ against Killua’s hands. It was one thing for Killua to fuck with football players, and a completely other story to fuck with a _virgin_.

Killua couldn't stop thinking about it, especially every time he looked Gon in the eye and wondered just how many girls (and guys) missed a shot at him. How many times did sorority girls try to get in his pants since August? There had to be a reason why Gon was single with zero experience. 

To top it off, Killua already _aching_ to see Gon without those skinny jeans. On top of _that_, Killua _really_ wanted Gon’s hands to just shove him onto the bed. Being topped by someone like _Gon Freecss?_

Killua was fully on board with it.

Until he found his hand reaching back to the bed and remembering that, _oh right_, he was supposed to top Gon, not the other way around. Which was really quite unfortunate because Killua was _seriously_ having a hard time dispelling the image of Gon between his legs right about then. His thighs trembled with _want_ to latch around Gon’s hips then and there.

He pushed himself up onto the bed, knees falling to the side. He propped his foot onto the set of wooden drawers under the bed and dragged his nails along Gon's torso, slipping lower to tug at the hem of Gon’s tshirt. He pulled on it. Gon slipped between his legs, leaning against the edge of the bed as Killua rolled the shirt up and pulled it to Gon’s pecs. 

Gon took the shirt from there. When he pried it up over his hair and flicked it aside, Killua caught his mouth watering at the sight of Gon’s olive skin looking decadent in the LED lights. His biceps were spotted here and there with dark freckles and beauty marks. Killua trailed his hand along them, only then thinking about how _amazing_ it would look on camera. Killua, with his pale, nearly translucent skin, dragging his hand over Gon’s tanned complexion…

“Is everything all right?” Gon asked, voice hushed. The music was still playing on his shitty phone speakers, and it warped back into focus as Killua swallowed hard and nodded.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good,” he said, brow furrowed. He put both hands to Gon’s shoulders and trailed his thumbs along Gon’s collarbone. "Just thinking. The light looks good on your skin tone—it’ll look nice on camera. My skin gets kinda… _washed out_ with the ring light. Yours is a good middle ground, you know.”

“N-Not really,” Gon confessed, a weak smile on his lips. He reached up to scratch at his hair and said, “You’re... thinking about the video right now?”

Killua dropped his hands to his lap. “Yeah. I mean, if we're talking about firsts, it’ll be my first _actual_ sex tape.” And he was kind of excited about it. _More_ than excited. In the five minutes it took for Gon to get to Hatsu, Killua had already wrapped his brain all around, up and down, the prospect of filming with Gon. He wasn't particularly _thrilled_ about having Kurapika film it, but he had officially jerked off in front of Kurapika before so sex wouldn't be much different, right? And Kurapika seemed down for it. In fact, he had already shot Kurapika a quick text. 

Consent was a thing, okay?

And it’d be _funny_, too. God, it’d be hilarious. Half of the time, he and Kurapika filmed and recorded audio separately because the entire damn video was just them laughing in the background about how ridiculous it was for Killua to have his dick out and about.

He could already tell that Gon would be a giggly partner. Mostly nervous-laughter, from what Killua could tell, but Killua wanted to know how that faint accent would sound on camera, during sex. 

Gon could roll his ‘r’s, maybe, and Killua wanted to see him roll his tongue all around his cock one day. 

If everything worked out, that is.

For now, he’d settle for Gon’s tongue in his mouth. 

He leant forward, pulling Gon by the base of his neck. Their lips collided, quickly, and not more than a second before Killua’s brow furrowed at the way Gon kept his lips puckered and tense. He pulled away and licked his bottom lip before biting it and saying, “Have you, um, kissed before?"

“N-Not much, no,” Gon confessed, smiling again. He leant against his hands on the bed and said, “Teach me?"

Killua would have sighed if he wasn’t so thrilled about Gon asking that of him. First sex, and now kissing? It was almost _better_ than working with experienced college kids. This way, Killua wasn't breaking bad habits—he could make _good_ habits out of Gon’s inexperience. 

“Loosen up,” Killua said, clearing his throat. Gon nodded, readjusting his shoulders like he'd go into kissing with them. “Don’t purse your lips. It's not cute, trust me.”

“Oh, okay."

“Just hold them like you'd normally hold them. When you aren't doing anything with ‘em, you know?” Killua said. Gon nodded, lips parted and relaxed, eyes wide and eager. His pupils made those doe eyes look pitch black. “Regular kissing is just, like… starting with your mouth half-open, closing it. Subtle sucking action, you know what I’m saying?”

Gon wrinkled his nose up and shook his head, laughing. “No, I _don’t_ know what you’re saying. I’m supposed to suck on your lips?”

Killua rolled his eyes. “_No_. That's not what I’m saying. But it’s sexy when you can hear it and you get that from the _subtle_—_very_ subtle—sucking action. That's where the ‘_smack_’ comes from.”

Gon nodded slowly, eyes unfocused. He looked over at the computer with his lips pursed, deep in thought. He ran a hand over his mouth and nodded again, saying, "Yeah, okay. Can I try again?”

“Don’t ask, just do it, dude. And tilt your head a bit so ya don’t break my nose—that’s imp—,” Killua said just as Gon swooped in, his hands reaching for either side of Killua’s face. 

When his lips caught hold, Killua felt the difference in the pressure. There was nothing tense or uncertain about the way Gon’s mouth lapped against his, pulling Killua forward with each closing motion before he pressed back in. Killua followed the groove of it with his chin, his lips molding to Gon's for the slow, easy seconds it took for one kiss to turn into a dozen. He caught his breath between each press, leaning back onto his elbows with a low, needy groan. He pulled his feet up, legs spread as Gon pushed onto the bed with his knee between Killua's legs. 

Killua panted, eyes bleary and unfocused when Gon pulled away, his fingers laced in Killua’s fluffy hair. 

Gon was dizzy from the adrenaline. His heart was beating so fast in his chest he thought he might faint. He cleared his vision after a few, quick blinks. 

They stared at each other for a moment before Killua rasped and said, “Yup. Quick learner,” before dragging Gon back over him. 

Gon scrambled onto the bed, leaning over Killua as they kissed and kissed until Gon’s lips tingled and the touch of Killua’s lips felt familiar enough to lick and taste for himself. He mouthed at Killua’s bottom lip, slipping his tongue up and between Killua’s parted teeth. 

Killua estimated that approximately one out of thirty _thousand_ people could actually french the first time around and by God, Gon was that one. After momentarily having his brain fucked by Gon’s tongue in his mouth, Killua parted with a hand on Gon’s chest, panting, “You’re shitting me, right? That was _not_ your first french.”

“What do you mean?” Gon said, a cheeky smile on his face. He looked up from Killua’s lips with bright eyes and said, “Was it good?”

“Uh, _yeah_, too fucking good,” Killua said. 

Gon pulled himself closer, couching on his knees between Killua’s legs so that his thighs brushed along the underside of Killua’s sensitive, inner thighs. “If it was that good, we should keep doing it,” Gon said. 

Killua nodded breathlessly because _fuck yes_, he was _so_ about that. They kissed for another few seconds before Killua started to squirm. He arched his back, his chest pressed to Gon’s as he wrapped his arms around Gon’s neck and pushed up. Gon leant back as Killua eased himself off of his back, turning, and breathing in sharply from his nose as he caught Gon’s lip between his teeth and pulled. His lips were red from kissing for so damn long, and with so much damn force that Killua backed Gon onto the bed with heavy kisses. 

He pulled back after a moment. Gon chased after him, licking wet kisses over Killua's lips before Killua sucked in a deep breath and sighed out, “I could just make a video of us making out.”

Gon laid an experimental kiss on Killua’s jawline before leaning back, his head settling on the lopsided pillows. “Hm?” he said, smiling drunkenly.

Killua pushed his bangs back and said, “Parts of your face would be in it, though.”

Gon swallowed down the scream of excitement he felt rising up at Killua’s words. He was more than okay with being in any number of Killua’s videos so long as no single part of him could be recognized. And he _loved_ the artistry of Killua’s videos.

“I’m okay with that,” Gon said, stretching a hand over his head with a lazy smile that he hoped looked sexy. 

Killua nodded, satisfied. “Okay,” he said.

“Okay.”

They stared at each other—or, more accurately, they stared at each others’ lips. Gon ran his tongue along his teeth before clicking the roof of his mouth and saying, “So… what do you wanna do now? Make out some more or…?”

Killua was personally surprised that he hadn’t gotten bored yet. Kissing was kind of a foreign concept to him. He did it, of course, more than he cared to admit—but that didn’t mean he enjoyed it. He was mostly surprised by how shitty Gon's teammates were at kissing. 

Except Meruem. Meruem was pretty good, but what _wasn't_ Meruem good at?

_Getting fucked_, Killua thought. _Having a semblance of humanity_.

Killua reached for the hem of his hoodie and pulled it up over his head, peeling his shirt off with it. “I change my mind. I want you to fuck me,” he said, flinging his shirt to the ground. 

He sat up on his knees and, tipping to the side, shimmied out of his sweatpants and boxers without a second thought. Gon bolted upright onto his elbows, cursing a little under his breath and stammering, “I-I didn't bring condoms—”

Killua rose an eyebrow at him. “Dude, I’ve got condoms _and_ lube. Who do you think I am, an animal?”

“No! It's not that—I mean, okay, yeah, sounds good,” Gon said, voice cracking. “I just… thought this was happening the other way around…"

“Tough fucking nuts,” Killua said, his hands on the crotch of Gon’s jeans once again. He looked up at Gon, who was very pointedly trying not to stare between Killua’s legs. Gon put his eyes on the ceiling and swallowed hard, and Killua watched his adam’s apple bob with it. “Thought you've seen my dick before,” he commented with a grin.

“I-I have, kind of. The… videos usually cut out before then.”

“Ah,” Killua said, and realizing that Gon wasn’t subscribed made him feel… _slightly_ better about sleeping with the guy. At least Gon wasn’t paying him and _also_ fucking him. “Give me a hand with this,” he said, yanking on Gon’s jeans. Gon startled with a yelp and agreed, helping shimmy them off of his person and onto the floor.

When Gon’s boxers came off, Killua’s jaw dropped without his consent. He clamped his mouth shut to keep the drool from slipping because hot _damn_, Freecss really didn’t kid around. When he looked up, Gon was still sitting forward, looking like he wanted to cover his crotch up from the way Killua stared it down. 

“How do you want me?” Gon asked before biting his lip, eyes searching Killua’s face for some clue. He was still thinking about what Killua had said, about football players being _boring_ and _uninteresting_ in bed. He wasn’t sure what else to do with himself and figured, if anything, Killua could take charge. 

Killua’s hands were shaking from the flash of heat that went through him and straight to his groin. He pushed his hands to Gon’s shoulders and said, “On your back.” Gon didn’t waste a second, and _fuck_, if that wasn’t the sexiest thing ever—having a football player do what he was _actually asked_. Killua could have cum right then and there, but instead, he reached for the condom and lube. 

With eager fingers, he split the edge of the condom pack before belatedly asking, “Are you allergic to latex?”

“No,” Gon said. 

_Thank fuck_, Killua thought, because he really didn’t want to put this moment on hold to sprint to the nearest drug store.

Killua trailed his fingers along the sharp edges of Gon’s hipbones where the ‘V’ brought him to his target. He could feel Gon’s skin trembling beneath his fingertips, and the muscles in his thighs tense beneath Killua’s bare ass. He ran his fingers down Gon’s half-hard length, teasing it, and bringing it slowly to attention as he rolled the condom on. 

Killua clicked open the lube and held it out to Gon, saying, “Have you ever used lube before?” When Gon shook his head, Killua gestured for him to stick out his tongue.

Gon swallowed hard before doing as he was told. Killua leant forward and dragged a small dollop of the lube over Gon’s tongue before pulling the tube back. Gon tasted it, licked his lips, and startled with wide eyes. “That—Why does it taste so good? What the fuck—” Gon reached for the tube again, tugging it forward.

Killua laughed and said, "It's cherry flavored. Some brand sent it in the mail this week.” He put a dot on the tip of his finger and stuck it in his mouth. Gon's eyes followed the motion, and Killua could have laughed at the way Gon’s mouth fell open at the sight of Killua licking his finger clean and sucking it with a _pop_. 

He was backlit by the PC setup and it made his white skin glow at the edges in ways that vibrated in Gon’s eyes. His head spun, swimming with overwhelming, overflowing _energy_. He sat up against the wall, his shoulder blades rubbing against the cold cement brick wall. He shuddered at the sensation of it, and the image of Killua reaching behind to stretch himself open with lubed fingers. He saw a droplet of it catch in the blue lights where Killua straightened up on his knees with a shuddered curse, and it dripped onto Gon’s thigh. It was surprisingly cold, for something Gon assumed would be as warm and thick as blood. 

Gon barely ever touched himself like this, and with Killua’s penis right in front of him, he didn't know what to do with it. Was he supposed to slick up his own penis? 

“Could you, um, tell me what to do?” Gon asked, reaching for the lube. His chest and through tightened at the squelch of Killua’s fingers just before Killua's free hand grasped him by the wrist. 

He dropped the lube, startled, and tensed when Killua slapped his hand onto his neck and said, "Kiss me.”

Gon nodded just before tipping up and laying a low, smooth kiss to Killua’s lips that felt just as tender as the soft, fluffy, trembling sensation in his chest. He ran his thumb down the smooth surface of Killua’s cheek, his fingers grazing Killua’s jawline as Killua gasped against him, his breath hot between Gon’s lips, and his mouth falling open into a low moan. He rubbed his wet ass against Gon’s thighs and rocked forward as he gripped Gon’s erection in his hand.

Gon let out a startled curse, jerking forward with a hand holding Killua by the arm, stilling his hand on his member. After a moment of awkward silence, Gon whispered an apology under his breath and relaxed his grip.

“Are you okay with this?” Killua asked, slowly, and Gon nodded quickly.

“Yes! Yeah, I am. I was just surprised,” he insisted. “Warn me first, please.”

“Sure,” Killua said. “I’m gonna give you a quick handjob in three, two, one.”

Gon slapped a hand over his face and groaned. Killua laughed, shaking his head as he stroked Gon’s cock and considered the number of self-proclaimed straight guys Killua scared to death like that. Meanwhile, Gon melted into putty on Killua’s sheets, entirely too overwhelmed by the fact that Killua Zoldyck had his dick in hand like it was no big deal. It was the biggest deal in the world! Going to the Moon had nothing on this moment in history, truly.

He couldn’t focus on anything other than that even as Killua laid open-mouthed kisses along his shoulder and sucked patches of his skin between his teeth. Gon preened with a low, needy groan.

Killua grinned against his shoulder and whispered, “How does that feel?”

Gon swallowed hard, his mouth gone dry. “_Really_ good,” he rasped, voice pitch deep. He brought his hands up, hovering over Killua’s narrow hips. “Can I—?”

Killua reached a hand back and shoved Gon’s hands onto his hips. His hand was still slick with lube from working on Gon’s dick. 

“I’m gonna sit on your dick now,” Killua said, and before Gon could laugh about that, Killua said, “Don’t _thrust_ or anything yet, alright? Just stay still.”

Gon nodded, head tipped back against the wall until that moment. Killua nestled closer, his knees pushed into the pillows and spread wide. Gon dragged his hands down Killua’s thighs and up again, curving his fingers back around the soft skin beneath Killua’s ass. Killua took one of his hands and guided it along the junction of his hip and thigh and beneath his balls where the back of his hand slipped along the length of his dick. 

Killua straightened up, rising off of Gon's lap. He rubbed his dick up Gon’s abdomen as he reached behind himself. Gon shivered when Killua’s hand grasped his dick and steadied it. With his other hand, he coaxed Gon’s wrist to stay stead, his fingers held at the tight skin where Killua’s hole began to fill with Gon’s willy. 

It was _tight_. _Uncomfortably_ tight at first, but the hot, wet heat of it filled around Gon’s dick. He pulled his hand back, brushing along the underside of Killua’s dick as he went. His hand was wet, and it left a glossy trail when he gripped Killua’s trembling thighs. 

He went down halfway and pulled back up, just a fraction of an inch, and pushed down again. Gon sucked in a sharp breath when Killua put both hands to his shoulders and dug his fingernails in. 

“Does it hurt?” Gon asked, barely above a whisper. 

Killua shook his head, but his brow was tense, mouth slightly ajar. Gon kissed at the tight, uncomfortable line where Killua grimaced a little before lapping against Killua’s mouth with lips lips, pulling Killua forward with each _subtle_ suck that Killua had taught him to do. The full weight of Killua's ass settled on his lap then, and Gon pulled his knees up, just slightly. 

“There’s something called a—um, a prostate. Have you heard of it?” Killua asked, out of breath. When Gon sort of nodded, Killua said, “You might feel it when I start going. It’s kinda hard?”

“Is it bad,” Gon whispered, eyes wide with horror.

“No, it's good,” Killua laughed. “_Really_ good. Tell me when you feel it and I'll tell you when I feel it.”

Gon nodded, and an instant later, Killua started rocking his hips in slow, shallow circles. Gon trembled instantly, nearly readjusting his position—for what reason, he had no clue—but Killua pushed his shoulders down to keep him steady. Killua rose up on his knees again and pumped down and up again in slow, quick rocks. 

Killua let out a shaky curse and threw his head back with a moan. He pulled a hand from Gon’s shoulder, reaching back to Gon’s raised knee as his abdomen muscles tensed and rolled with his quick, shallow thrusts. Gon _sort of_ felt what Killua had described, but it felt like it was slipping from his grasp with every thrust. 

“I th-think I feel it,” Gon said, pushing up a little. 

“I almost had it—” Killua panted, nails digging into Gon’s knee. “_Shit—Holy fuck—_” Gon met his thrust with a mostly accidental push of his own, his hands squeezing Killua by the waist. He hadn’t realized how tightly he was holding Killua until he readjusted his hands and watched his fingerprints fill in pink. “_There_, right there,” Killua gasped, and Gon grunted with the effort to angle himself right. 

“I-I need to—” Gon started, not quite sure _what_ he needed to do aside from get on his knees. He’d have more leverage then, so he somehow, more or less, conveyed as much to Killua. Killua sat himself fully on Gon’s length as they resituated and Gon swept his feet behind him, underneath his ass, and held Killua firmly around the lower back. 

He nearly doubled-over. It wasn’t every damn day he did _this_ exercise, that was for sure. 

He put a hand to the sheets in front of him, holding Killua up with one arm. Killua watched, hair slicked with sweat around his forehead and cheeks. 

Usually, Killua didn’t care how long sex went on. If he was able to cum faster, he was all the better for it. He had no immediate concerns about _not_ cumming before Gon, but fuck it, he was surprised the guy hadn’t orgasmed yet. Two minutes in and he was still erect and _determined._

“Is this okay?” Gon asked.

Killua shrugged. “If it works,” he said. He wasn't particularly uncomfortable with the position. Gon started to pull out little-by-little to thrust again. “If you think you can—_AH_, _fuck, yes!_” Killua lost absolute control of his vocal chords. He let out a weak, ecstatic moan when Gon’s second thrust glided all along his prostate.

“That sounded like it hurt,” Gon said, hesitating.

Killua opened his eyes, panting and _shaking_ from how damn _close_ he was. “Keep fucking _going_. Same as the last t-two,” he seethed, gripping at Gon’s spikey goddamn hair and holding it in his fists as Gon hit his prostate again with the accuracy of a goddamn specialist. 

Killua latched his ankles together behind Gon’s back as Gon leant forward on his outstretched hand more with each thrust. Killua was goddamn grateful for Gon’s impeccable, well, _pecs_ for supporting him that evening as Gon fucked the living daylights out of him until he came all over his stomach in white strips. 

Gon’s balance faltered shortly after and, after another two and a quarter thrusts, he broke into a low, muffled moan against Killua's hair. Killua _felt the cum_ pulse in his ass where the slicked-up condom kept it all in its neat little package. There was nothing little about that package, though, as Killua loved to admit.

They were both sticky with sweat by the time Gon relaxed his arm around Killua's waist. He kept his head down as Killua’s back grazed the sheets. He unlatched his ankles, his thighs absolute jelly and his hips cracking like some elderly lady when he pulled his knees together against Gon's abdomen. 

Gon sniffed and rubbed the heel of his palm against his sweaty forehead before asking, “How, um, how do I get the condom off?”

Killua was dazed. As much as he wanted to flop on the bed and fall asleep, he had work to do. “Right," he said, voice hoarse. He cleared his throat and reached over to the desk behind him. He plucked one, two, three tissues out of the box and used two to wipe his stomach down. He sat up with a groan and chucked the dirty tissues into the bin. With the other, he slipped the condom off himself and knotted it. 

He wiped down Gon's flaccid dick. “I gotta clean my ass out, but you stay here. I've only got one robe and I wouldn't recommend shirt-cocking it to the men's restroom.”

Gon nodded, wordlessly. Killua stood, shakily, on his bare feet and stepped haphazardly across the dorm with lube running down his thighs. He tossed the condom away and grabbed another tissue to catch some of the drips as he reached for his robe. Flipflops acquired, robe secured, and dignity reassembled, Killua left the dorm with Gon unsupervised.

Gon fell back onto the bed and, against his better judgement, slapped his hands straight over his face and groaned. Immediately he wondered what, if anything, he did wrong during the entire four—nearly ten, if you count the making out bit—minute experience that just transpired on Killua’s bed. 

Was he too demanding? Killua was supposed to be in charge and then Gon went and fucked that up. He wanted to scream at himself for thinking he knew what he was doing. How could he be so _stupid?_ Killua was the experienced one, not him. He shouldn’t have switched their positions. And was sex _usually_ that short? Maybe it was short because Killua just wanted to get it over with. And _Gon_ could barely keep his shit together at the end. What if his elbow, like, _gave out?_ and he belly-flopped on top of Killua? It was a disaster in the making. 

He rolled onto his side with another groan of self-disgust, only to straighten with a sharp gasp when the door handle shifted, and Killua strolled back in looking fresh and clean.

Killua kicked off his sandals and flung the robe off. He held it out to Gon and said, “Here. Make sure you take a piss.”

Gon took the robe and, after getting to his feet, watched Killua slip on a pair of joggers over his bare hips. How was he supposed to ask if he did something wrong? It was so easy at practice to just _ask_, but this was _different_. Right?

“Dude,” Killua said. Gon’s eyes jumped up to where Killua was watching him. _Fuck_. “You good?”

“Are… _you_ good?” Gon asked. Killua squinted at him. Gon sighed and twisted the hem of the robe between his hands as he said, “I’m just worried I did something wrong.”

And here Killua thought Gon had the time of his goddamn virgin life. 

“Excuse me, but _what?_” Killua said, and Gon flinched, shoulders tense. “Are you sure we had the same sex just now?”

“But—wasn’t it kind of short?” 

Killua sucked in a deep breath to keep his annoyance from exploding out of his mouth. Instead, he licked his lips and bit out, “_Short?_”

“Yeah,” Gon said, and Killua almost slapped him. _Almost_. “I thought maybe you didn’t like it. So we ended it faster.”

_Oh_. Killua slapped a hand to his face. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “That isn’t what quick sex means, Gon. And that _wasn't_ short.”

“Really?”

“_No_. A minute would be short, dude. And we both came and that means it was good, alright?” He dropped his hand to his lap and caught Gon staring at him, shoulders slumped with relief. “Jesus, dude. It was fine. It was pretty… great, actually. Alright?"

“O-Oh, okay. If you’re sure,” Gon said. 

Killua narrowed his eyes as he watched Gon step towards the door. “Why? Was it bad for you?”

Gon was swinging the door open when he said that and bashed the corner of it on his nose. Killua jumped, startled, as Gon cursed and slapped a hand over his throbbing nose. He cupped his hand over it, closed his eyes, and took a deep, calming breath. He half-turned back to Killua and rasped, “It wasn’t bad. I, um, I’m gonna go shower now.”

“‘Kay,” Killua said, and Gon shut the door behind him.

* * *

Gon startled awake with a scream. He floundered for a second before catching his hand on the figure sleeping next to him. He trailed his eyes over the silky canopy over his bed, down the curtains, and at last to where Killua shifted beside him with a groan. Gon lifted his hand from Killua’s head, letting out a weak apology as he sighed in relief. 

Killua hummed a delightful, sleepy moan and sighed, “Bad dream?”

Gon relaxed against Killua’s hand coming to meet his. They linked their fingers together. “Yeah, I had a nightmare.”

Killua pushed up onto his elbow. His eyes were squinty with sleep as he said, “Tell me about it.”

Gon laughed, shaking his head. “No. It’d give you bad ideas, trust me.” As if he’d tell Killua that he just had a dream where his _boyfriend_ was the pornstar instead. Killua might call it a stroke of genius.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How many of you nerds dreaded Kurapika filming their sex tape XD Imagine Killua texting Kurapika like "Change of plans. It'll be a video of us making out instead" and Kurapika breaks his phone in half like "That goddamn tease."


End file.
